


Beyond the Horizon

by sittingonyourfloor



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Adventure & Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Babies, Beyond the Wall - Freeform, Caves, Dragon Babies, Dragons, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Ice Dragon, Jonerys, Journeying North, POV Daenerys, Post 8x04 AU, Pregnancy, Pregnant Daenerys Targaryen, Smut, Targlings (ASoIaF), no Mad Queen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2020-04-11 10:51:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 60
Words: 144,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19108171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sittingonyourfloor/pseuds/sittingonyourfloor
Summary: Convinced to leave Dragonstone - and the war - behind after Missandei's death, Daenerys journeys northward with Jon to join the free folk. But even though its greatest threat was defeated, the land of winter still holds danger in its icy grip. Post 8x04 AU.





	1. Dying Light

**Book I: Shadow**

_"Who can know the heart of a dragon?"_ \- writings of Gyldayn **  
**

The fire made a new fissure in a log, crackling quietly. While this sound usually went unnoticed, it was the only thing Daenerys Targaryen was paying attention to at the moment. The light of the flames danced before her eyes, artificially brightening what had been dull since she stood before the wall at King’s Landing, beckoning her.

 _Come,_ it seemed to say, _come make more cracks._ The fissure grew deeper, flames licking around the log in a desperate attempt to split it in two.

Another crackle, louder, and the log -

“Dany.”

She hadn’t heard the door open, but wished it hadn’t. A door opening, any sound that wrenched her out of this room, was just more pain. _Please leave,_ she thought, _don’t make this any worse._

A strong hand gripped her shoulder. At first, she thought he was going to restrain her, that he would just end it all with a final act, but then his thumb slowly moved back and forth. Her shoulders unwittingly dropped with his touch. _Don’t look._ She felt her body begin to lean back. _Don’t look, I command you not to._ Her body didn’t listen to her mind, further seeking out his ghosting touch of hand upon shoulder. _I can’t. I can’t. Please._

Of course she didn’t listen. Slowly, she turned from the fire to look at the man behind her. Her gaze traveled upwards, from stomach to chest to neck and to...face. A face knit in an expression of concern. Was it real concern? Or fallacy? His hand moved up from her shoulder, as he walked around to face her, brushing hanging silver hair away to cup her face. Jon kneeled in front of her, blocking the raging battle of fire and logs. Daenerys’s gaze moved past him, trying to look at the fireplace again. She wondered if the cracked log had been defeated yet, as was inevitable and expected when faced with fire.

“Dany,” Jon said again, hand still on her face. His hands were cold. She shivered once, realizing that she felt cold as well. When had that happened?

Abandoning her attempt to see how the fire battle ended, she looked back at him. Rather, she looked at his mouth as she continued to wage the war between her mind and her mutinous body.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m so sorry.” _For betraying me?_ She scoffed at the thought. He come to say that he, indeed, would take the throne from her now that so many knew the truth and so many loved him, while fearing her. And yet he felt “honorable” enough to apologize.

His face still held an expression of concern. Dany had learned what felt like eons ago that Jon Snow’s face never lied. But now, here he was, gloating and yet concerned. Had he learned lying as well as betrayal?

“I know how much you loved Missandei,” he continued. Dany felt her stomach drop sickeningly.

 _Missandei._ She shivered again, but the shiver did not stop after one. It set into her body, into her very core and she felt as if her body was made of lead. _Viserion, Qhono, Jorah, Rhaegal, Missandei - oh, Missandei. How could I have done this to you?_

Jon was sincere and here she was thinking about a throne. Here she was consumed by anger and forgetting her only friend. Her only friend who was gone.

It was too much for her. Too much for one person to hold. She collapsed forward, Jon’s arms opening in time to catch her as she slipped from the chair and onto the floor, body wracked with violent sobs.

“He - she - she - kil - she - they’re - Jon, Jon, I c-can’t, I - I can’t,” she cried loudly into his neck between hitched breaths. Her arms reciprocated the embrace he currently had her in, pulling him closer and willing him to hold her tighter as her mind lost the battle with her body.

Jon stayed silent, teeth grit, eyes focused on a wall, holding her tightly and brushing her lank hair as her sobs slowed from ragged to a labored quiet breathing. She had melted further and further into him. Her tears that had run onto his shoulder and neck had begun to dry. The fire no longer fought the logs, but smoldered over their scant remains, dying.

“Jon,” she said, voice cracking as she looked up from his shoulder. Their arms stayed around each other.

Her voice broke Jon from his focus on the wall and he looked down, locking eyes with her. They were newly red and puffy, but it looked as if she had been ill as well as crying.

“Tyrion said you plan to have Varys…” he trailed off. If he spoke it, it would be true.

“He went too far,” Dany said, though her attempt at a controlled voice merely ended with it breaking again, “He betrayed me.” _You betrayed me._ She wanted to add it, but his face stopped her. Concern, still, and glassy eyes. Jon’s face never lied.

“You don’t have to do it,” he said.

“What happens if I don’t?” she asked, pushing back from their embrace to look at him properly. “He threatens my rule. He’s making me lose. If I lose, she died for-” she paused, breathing hitching again. _She died for nothing. She left Essos for nothing. I brought her here. For nothing._

Dany dropped her arms from embrace, her eyes stinging as she talked to his shoulder. “She’s gone, Jon. She’s gone for nothing,” she said quietly, “There’s nobody left. They died for me. Anyone who loved me died for me. Me. Nothing. The Queen of Nothing.”

She searched Jon’s face in desperation for a sign that what she said wasn’t true. Her eyes locked with his once more and she felt her lip tremble as she fought back more tears threatening to spill over as the weight of what she said crashed upon her already leaden and overtaxed body. _How did this happen?_

Dany placed her hands on Jon’s shoulders and breathed in as deeply as she could muster, praying to the gods that Jon Snow’s face did not lie about its concern. “What else can I do now?”

“What else can we do?” Jon answered, taking her hands.

~

Varys walked impassively down the hall, flanked by several of the Unsullied. The only indication that this was not, simply, a guarded stroll was the tight wringing of his hands together, which were bare as he had removed his rings when summoned from his chambers.

Grey Worm led him and the rest of the Unsullied down stairs onto the shores of Dragonstone. The night was an inky black, with the last vestiges of rain still thickening the cold air from the sea. Waves crashed upon shore in the uninterrupted pattern that had gone on since before the First Men.

 _Not everything will change,_ thought Varys. The party halted and Unsullied soldiers parted the way for Varys to see what lay ahead.

Tyrion, alone against the black of night, stood before him. His look was grim as he scanned the people who had arrived before him. A faint flash crossed his face. _Puzzlement?_ Varys wondered briefly. _Perhaps I was supposed to have already been dead._ Whatever Tyrion had thought, he settled back into his grim position with his hands folded and looked towards the castle again.

Each minute felt like a century as they stood and waited. _Was execution this suspenseful for others?_ Varys wondered after what felt like a millenium. Grey Worm mirrored what Tyrion had done in scanning the land for something more than darkness, breaking his steely concentration and leading the other soldiers to do the same.

Tyrion broke the silent search. “Not that I wouldn’t much prefer a nighttime chat on the rainy shore with my dear friend and some faithful soldiers,” his voice shook with the attempt at humor as he looked helplessly at Varys and then back at Grey Worm, “but where is our Queen?”

Grey Worm shared a split-second glance with Tyrion and then headed for the castle, barking orders for a few of Varys’s guard to follow him.

More millenia seemed to pass by. Suspense abated, Varys still felt a growing sense of dread as he stared past Tyrion at the blackness concealing the sea behind him. He heard punctuated shouts above the shore, mixing in with the waves. The Unsullied stayed still in their positions, but Tyrion began to react to each shout.

Suddenly, after fourteen millenia or so, Varys thought he saw figures move behind Tyrion towards the shoreline. Had the Lannister army taken up the offensive and attacked? Varys wildly wondered if he would prefer a Targaryen or Lannister execution, having beared witness to both. Just as he shook off the thoughts as part of his dread, he could have sworn two figures moved behind Tyrion again. He could have sworn he heard soft running mixing in with the shouts and the waves.

Then the running came closer. It came from behind him and he flinched, knowing this was his end. _Does it hurt? Please don’t let it -_

No end came, only an Unsullied soldier moving past him to address Tyrion.

“The Queen is missing.”


	2. On the Water

Though she had been at sea many times with no issue, Dany felt increasingly seasick as waves of varying sizes tugged at the boat. She lay under heavy furs, back pressed uncomfortably against a lumpy satchel and head against a seat plank.

It was stuffy hidden beneath the furs and she longed for a breath of cool night air, the last of which she had taken what felt like hours ago.  _ How long has it actually been? _ Agitation of not knowing gnawed at the lead in her stomach. She felt a sting from her cuticles, and briefly wondered when she had started pulling at them.

Another large wave rocked the boat, causing her stomach lead to fizzle and burn. Had she eaten anything in the past week, she would have relieved her stomach of it by now. Or earlier, as her panic and nausea had begun before they even set off in the tiny boat.

"Get up," Jon had said brusquely as he rose from in front of the fireplace, pulling at Dany's hands to rise as well, "Get up, we haven't much time."

"For what?" Dany asked, bewilderment painting her flushed face. Mind still buzzing from allowing herself to think of Missandei, she barely registered what was happening or what he had said.

Jon grabbed a stray satchel left beside the fireplace, hastily moving about the chamber and stuffing several candles, a sheaf of parchment, quills, and a small bowl into the bag. He took Dany's second pair of shoes and stuck them in as well, then yanked off two of the furs from the bed and tossed them to her.

"Jon what - what are you doing?" Dany spluttered, having had one fur hit her in the face as she stared open-mouthed at the whirlwind Northman tearing up her bedchamber.

"Leaving," he said as he shoved several uneaten pieces of bread into the satchel as well. He turned back to her, breathing heavily. His eyes had darkened with a grim intensity Dany had only seen once before, when Death himself had come to Winterfell. He picked up the second fur that she had missed catching and handed it to her. "We're leaving."

"What?" she exclaimed, somehow now holding Jon's hand along with the furs and quietly running out of the bedchamber, turning right onto a corridor leading north, "No. No, we're not. Jon, no!"

Being half-dragged, she attempted to pull him to a halt and stumbled instead, falling to her knees in a heap of heavy furs. She looked up to see his hand stretched out to her in aid and stubbornly knit her eyebrows together, refusing took take the aid. "Tell me what is going on!" she demanded in a harsh whisper, "Tell me or - or - or -"

"Or what?" Jon snapped back to her, matching her tone and glancing over his shoulder, "Varys tried to convince me to turn on you. Apparently Sansa has tried something similar. Don't you see? It's not going to stop. It's never going to stop for us. All this ends in is more death. Creating more nothing for more people to fight over. I don't want the throne, Dany. If you do, fine, but deep down you know it isn't worth it."

Dany opened her mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out.  _ More nothing to fight over. _ Her life, her purpose, her throne, it had become nothing but death. Once, in a warmer place, she had sworn to protect people from the tyrants who caused them harm.  _ Now what am I?  _ Flashes of memory raced through her mind. The panicked screams of people nailed to stakes. Burning flesh. A soldier throwing up his hands to shield his doomed body from fire. Her  _ khalasar _ disappearing into the night. A glint of silver in the sunlight as it came down upon the neck of someone too good for the world…

She grasped Jon's hand and allowed him to pull her up off the floor. Right arm clamped around the furs, she began to run next to him as they headed to the northern shore.

~

"Stay down, there's still a lot of torches," Jon whispered to Dany, breaking her concentration on pulling at a particularly stubborn cuticle on her right thumb. She winced, feeling the burn of it in entirety.

They couldn't be far away then, if Jon could still see the shore. Within moments of them pushing off from the shore, Jon had described the beach being swarmed with torches. The realization that they were so close to being found running away haunted Dany.  _ One more mistake to add to my list. _

They were mere feet from the water's edge, having raced along quietly down the steps and avoided the guarding soldiers by the grace of the gods, when Dany pulled to a halt for a second time.

"We need to  _ leave _ ," Jon hissed, tugging at her hand. He glanced at the weak firelight a few yards to the left of them. It was virtually the only light, as the moon, though peeking through the clouds, was dull and yellowed. Tyrion's figure could just be made out against the dancing flames, undoubtedly waiting for the two people hidden amongst the shadows behind him.

"Drogon," Dany murmured. Her child.  _ How was she to leave him? _ She let go of Jon's hand, turning to run back towards the castle. Before making it a step, however, his hand braced her arm.

"Let me go, Jon. I can't just leave him!"

"You have to," Jon said evenly, though Dany could hear the suppressed notes of anxiety and exasperation in his voice. She made to ignore him, to continue running, but he held her back. "Dany, he's a dragon. The only direction he'd be flying is towards us again - towards you. That's away from the Scorpions."

He tugged at her hand again and said, "Come on, we need to move." Reluctantly, she allowed herself to be led to the water, hitching up the furs a little higher in her other arm. She heard other footsteps running in the distance and the figure against the firelight shifted as they reached the edge of the water.

How Jon had known a boat was here, she didn't ask. Treading carefully into the shallow, lapping waves, he dropped the satchel into the boat.

Wordlessly, he helped Dany in, motioning for her to lay down. "I'll tell you when it's safe to come out," he said to her before taking the furs and descending her into more pitch darkness than before.

A gentle hand rocked Dany awake. It stopped as she stirred, but she continued to rock without it.  _ Where am I? _ Scrunching up her still-closed eyes, she pushed her sleepy mind to remember the past night's events. Her eyes hurt from the weak light caressing her face with little warmth.  _ Light? _ Dany opened her eyes, sticky with sleep and stray tears, to look up at the pale, clear sky.

Although there was light, part of Dany's face fell in shadow. Turning towards the shadow, she found Jon looking over her.

"Where," she started, pausing to clear her hoarse throat, "Where are we?"

"Coming up on Crackclaw Point by the end of the day," he replied, squinting into the east. He looked back down at Dany and mindlessly brushed hair from her face.

Dany continued to stare at him, mind turning with the enormity of what he had said. She listened to the calm water sounds, the wind, and strained in vain to hear for anything else.

_ We left. _ They had actually fled Dragonstone and were headed somewhere else. For the first time since she had fallen asleep -  _ when did that happen? _ \- the lead began creeping back into her stomach. This time, however, it was battling an immense swooping sensation that Dany shamefully did not want to name.

"You needed the rest. But I made sure you didn't have to stay under the furs," Jon said, "once I couldn't see the torches anymore. No ships seem to have followed us, though. For now, at least."

Dany sat up, turning to look past the back of the boat. She couldn't see Dragonstone any longer, just water on every side.

"Crackclaw Point?" she asked.

"And north from there," Jon said, "We'll make our way around Dyre Den and find another boat to get to the Vale. We can travel away from the towns, away from Westeros."

Dany surveyed him, scanning his face in particular. Leave Westeros?  _ But what choice did they have _ , she reasoned. The silent answer came gravely:  _ More death _ . Dany took a deep breath in, trying to calm the many sensations battling in her stomach.  _ Today, _ she vowed,  _ I choose life. _

"Beyond the Wall?" she guessed. Jon nodded and she returned his nod with a dip of her head. _ So be it. _


	3. Distance

They spoke so little on the journey across the water to Crackclaw Point that they could have passed for a miniature version of the _Silence_. Jon spent the time alternately rowing and turning his head in every direction to look for signs of other ships. His jaw was set so hard that Dany imagined it must be painful. Every once in a while, a trick of light upon the water or the sound of a sea creature coming up for air sent Jon’s hand reaching for his sword on his hip as he noisily dropped an oar.

Each time, he tried to cover it up by scratching his leg or pretending to wipe his hand of sweat and water. Dany pretended not to notice. Although her eyes flashed to him each time she, too, heard a noise, she averted them quickly as if to save them both from embarrassment. 

Instead, she whiled away the day at sea trying to stay warm underneath the thicker of the furs from her bed, looking out on the vast expanse of blue-green water. _If this is the_ Narrow _Sea, how large are the others?_ It seemed shocking that she had crossed this sea from Essos, imagining herself to be the Savior of Westeros with nothing but victory in her future. Contemplating the sea’s vastness now, she wondered how she could have ever been so blinded.  
  
Several times throughout the long day, Dany ran an arbitrary hand through the cold water. Frigid, the sea numbed her hand and the salty water made the ripped cuticles on her fingers burn. Several of her nail beds had become angry and red. Her left ring finger throbbed where she had gone even further and torn her nail quite low, exposing the sensitive skin underneath. The numbing burn was a welcome pain, keeping her anxiety from taking hold and drowning her in far worse than salty sea water.

“Dany,” Jon said in a low voice. She jumped, interrupted from her focus on the water, which had grown much darker than she last remembered. The sky had gone from blue to a dark mix of grey and purple hues. She smelled nighttime rain on the air even though she felt it had only just been mid-afternoon.

“Sorry,” Jon said sympathetically, “We’re about at the shoreline.”

Dany turned to look at the fast approaching land before them, pulling her right hand out of the water though she did not remember placing it in. It was looked odd-colored in the dusk light and felt painful when she tried to flex her fingers experimentally. She cursed herself for leaving her hand in the water for that long and drifting off with thoughts about and land and a time far from now. 

Jon hopped out of the boat to pull it ashore before he helped Dany out. She stifled a yelp as he took her injured hand, but her face gave it away even in the dusky light.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Oh,” Dany replied, “It’s - it’s nothing. Just stiff from being still for so long.” 

Hoping to not give more away, she turned towards the boat and gathered up her two furs. If Jon thought she was lying, he didn’t press her on it, but grabbed the satchel from the boat before pushing their transport back into the water.

“What are you doing?” Dany asked, confused.

Jon watched as the boat drifted away before responding, “Figure it’s better nobody knows where the boat landed...or where it came from.”

He turned his back on the water and came up next to Dany, offering her his hand. “Come on,” he said, “We should get under the trees before it rains.”

By happenstance, they found shelter in the form of a cave after an hour of walking. A small entrance, but bigger on the inside, they found a larger space not far past the entrance to set up for the night. There was even more cave past the roomy chamber, which Jon briefly looked down and listened for a while before declaring it safe. 

It had begun raining a cold mist before they got to the cave. While not soaked, Dany felt as though the mist had seeped into her very bones. Even with the small fire that Jon had skillfully made and was currently tending to, she could not seem get the cold out. The hair on her arms pricked with every new chilling sensation that came along and small shivers kept taking over her body.

Watching Jon stoke the fire again, she started feeling thoroughly useless. Jon had come up with the plan to leave. Jon found the boat. Jon stayed up in the night to row and keep watch. Jon knew the geography well enough to not be completely lost. Jon could make a fire. 

_All I can do is carry two furs around and get cold_ , she thought viciously. 

All of those titles that were announced after her name. All of the times people bowed to her, acting as though she was their savior incarnate. How were they all so blind? How was she so blind, that girl that crossed the Narrow Sea thinking the world was hers for the taking? So blind that she never even learned to make her own fire. Even amongst her Dothraki, others did it for her. Or she could just shout, “ _Dracarys!”_ and feel the pleasing lick of dragonfire across her skin. And yet now here she was, alone in a cave depending on another. The Breaker of Chains. The _Khaleesi_ of the Great Grass Sea. Defeated by the cold because she couldn’t make her own fire. 

Dany walked over to one side of the cave room where a natural clear pool of water had formed. Rain helped fill the pool, and even with only a mist, Dany could hear the drip of water in the cave as it filtered from outside. The water, over thousands of years of dripping in, had left patterns and ridges around the pool. _Perhaps before the First Men came. Before there was such a thing as a throne, or a Targaryen, or a Stark._ Marveling, she reached up her right hand to trace the ridges.

“Ah! Ouch!” she cried, grasping her right wrist and doubling over in pain, her face scrunching up.

In an instant, Jon had sprung over to her. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“No!” Dany said roughly through the pain, “It’s my fucking hand. I was so stupid on that boat, daydreaming, and left it in the damn water too long.”

“Let me,” Jon said, gingerly moving Dany to a rock near the fire to sit while he looked at her hand. In the light, it looked more discolored than before. Jon tried flexing a couple of her fingers and she ground her teeth, wincing at the pain it caused. Even his touch was uncomfortable. 

_Defeated by the cold and my own stupidity_ , Dany thought, making an amendment to her earlier declaration of naivete. 

“It’s not great but I think it’ll heal - though I wish you’d said something earlier,” Jon murmured, looking up at her. What he was thinking about, Dany did not know, but he cleared his throat and gently rested Dany’s hand in her lap.

“I’m sorry,” Dany said, watching as he got up and fetched the satchel, “All I’ve been perfectly useless.” _All I’ve been is an idiot_.

“It’s okay. You haven’t been yourself. _I’m_ sorry for being so selfish. If anything, it’s my fault,” Jon replied. He fished out two pieces of bread from the satchel, offering her one as he sat down on the rock next to her. Dany took it, feeling mildly hungry now that the pain in her hand had ebbed back into the dull pangs she had begun to be used to feeling. 

“How?” Dany asked.

“I...got scared by what Varys said. Scared of the future, of how people saw me - saw you - and ran from it. Like a coward. And took you with me. I didn’t want to - to leave you behind.” He looked down at his piece of bread, frowning.

“I was relieved that you didn’t,” Dany said after a minute. Jon looked back up at her, bewildered.

“What?”

Dany broke the eye contact this time, staring at the fire. “When everything happened at King’s Landing. When - when she didn’t get to come back with us,” Dany said, voice thickening, “I felt afraid. I thought I had been afraid at Winterfell, you know, with the Dead, but this was real fear...of _me_. I didn’t feel like myself anymore when I walked away from that barrier. I was angry. At...at _everything_. Cersei. The Mountain. King’s Landing. Tyrion. The sea. The clouds. _You_. Everything. And I just sat there in my room at Dragonstone and let my anger just eat me alive until I had a reason to do something with it.”

She paused, remembering when Tyrion had told her of Varys. The memory made acid boil in her stomach in disgust as she thought of her strange eagerness to see Varys dead.

“And then you came in and just dragged me away from it all, as if out of a fog. When I woke up this morning and remembered what had happened...I felt _relieved_ ,” she lingered on the word, swallowing hard as she faced the truth, “I realized that I’ve spent my life denying my father and Viserys while trying to get the throne, only to become like them. Then I felt horrified - I _feel_ horrified that a day ago I was willing to watch someone burn outside of a battle. That the last time I saw you, I tried to manipulate you and then turned around and called you a traitor. I’m no better than my father,” she finished darkly, furrowing her brow. 

“Dany…” Jon started, unconsciously sliding his hand over to hers. She grasped it, seeking out the little warmth his hand gave off for her chill had magnified past the cold in her bones.

“I don’t want to be mad, Jon,” she whispered, squeezing his hand and still looking into the fire. She did not dare say it louder.

Jon squeezed her hand in return and he began making slow circles with his thumb. “You’re not mad,” he told her firmly, “You _did_ walk away. The fact that you’re here means that you’re not your father or your brother.”

She looked up at him, searching for a sign that what he said was true. _Sincerity_. Jon’s face never lied. “Thank you,” she said quietly. A small smile danced across his face and Dany returned it without thinking. When had she last smiled?

He brushed away the hair that had fallen to hang in her face. His hand lingered, ghosting over her cheek and temple. 

Then Jon closed the gap between them, pressing his lips upon hers. It was a brief kiss, but one with a note of hope that Dany had forgotten could exist. It seemed to make the plaguing chill dissipate, and Dany was able to appreciate the fact about caves that Jon told her earlier: even in the winter they stay a constant temperature.

“You’re tired,” Dany told him, raising her good hand and tracing the circles under his eyes, visible even in the dimming firelight.

“As are you,” Jon said, getting up from the rock to grab the furs and spread them near the fire. “I’m afraid that beds for tonight are comfortable bits of cave floor. But perhaps that’s better than a boat?” 

“This bit does seem comfortable,” she told him as they laid down together on the furs. She moved to lay her head on his chest and rest her injured hand gently across him and he accepted, putting his arm around her as they stared at the high cave ceiling together.

Perhaps thinking she was already asleep, Jon placed a chaste kiss upon her hair before his breathing slowed. And Dany, still awake and feeling another note similar to what their last kiss had brought, found herself drifting away too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was by far one of the most difficult chapters to write - I struggled immensely with Dany's dialogue, both internal and with Jon, and hope I did justice with what I believe is going on inside her head. 
> 
> By the way, I really like caves. Like, as a human, I just really enjoy caves, so be prepared for some cave admiration.
> 
> Also, a countdown for you: Two chapters to go. Until what? Guess we'll find out. (Hint: it's only the beginning)


	4. The Woods Witch

Rain on her face woke Dany up. Her sleep had been blank, just like the night before, which she welcomed after the nightmares she’d been having. More droplets fell on her face and Dany’s eyes shot open.

_ This is supposed to be a cave, how is it raining? _

The answer came in the form of a wet Northman standing above her, arms full of wood and hair dripping. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Jon said, “I’ve just gathered some more wood. Found a couple of mostly dry pieces to keep the fire going until the rest can dry out.”

“I thought we were moving on today,” Dany replied, sitting up and blinking the sleep from her eyes.

“We were. But I don’t fancy swimming all the way across Crackclaw Point, and I expect you don’t either.”

“Is it bad outside?”

“If it were snow, we’d be digging ourselves out of this cave,” Jon said.

Dany’s eyes widened at the prospect. Winter was not fully upon them in the more southern part of Westeros, but she knew that paralyzing snows were a very real threat as they journeyed further north. 

Jon dropped one more branch on the fire, which popped and crackled appreciatively. “I’m going back out to see about more food,” he told her. 

“But you just said -”

“I’d much prefer to be soaked and have more food than stale bread than to be dry and have nothing but stale bread. I think we should avoid people as much as possible and that means foraging before it all dies in the cold. I just don’t fancy  _ traveling _ in the rain.”

“I’ll come with - ah!” Dany had started to stand up and, forgetting about her hand, pushed off from her right side. The end effect was a thud and yelp that echoed in the cave room. Shooting pains went through her hand, which was still off-color even for how pale she was naturally. 

Jon smiled sympathetically. “Don’t worry,” he said, “Just stay and rest. I’ll be back past midday. I promise.”

~

Thoroughly displeased with the continuation being feeling like a helpless child, Dany spent a while pacing around the cave room and trying to flex her fingers in and out. The more she did it, the duller the pain was, but her hand started to continuously ache instead and she didn’t know if that was better or worse.

“Seven hells,” she muttered angrily as she kicked at the cave floor. Her kick echoed, and then another kick echoed back from the path that led further into the cave. 

Dany jumped. The cave was deserted. Jon had said so.  _ But I didn’t kick again _ .

“You’re not a child,” she muttered. Steeling herself, Dany quietly walked over to the pile Jon had left when he emptied the satchel to take out for foraging. She picked up one of the several candles and lit in on the fire.  _ Don’t walk in vulnerable _ , her mind warned. 

Grimacing, Dany transferred the candle to her bad hand (it protested with several more stabbing pains before going back to aching) and picked up a small knife that Jon had left behind. Facing the dark path, she whispered, “You’re not helpless,” before walking into the black. 

The downward-sloping path narrowed quickly, and Dany had to turn sideways so as not to scrape her shoulders on rock. The ceiling lowered as well - Jon would have needed to stoop. After picking her way along the narrow path for a while, Dany suddenly found herself emptied out into a chamber even larger than the one she and Jon were staying in. It was somehow brighter, even with just the candlelight, and the ceiling was high and adorned with stalactites of varying lengths. A few even reach closed to their partners coming from the floor. The candlelight reflected of hints of glittering quartz on the walls and she heard a steady drip from the rain outside filtering into another cave pool.

Turning in a circle, Dany took a moment to take it all -

“ _ What  _ are you doing in my cave?”

“AH - OW!” Dany screamed, spinning around and gripping her candle so hard that she felt as though her hand might light on fire. She dropped the candle, which went out only to be replaced with the light of a torch held close to her face by one of the most wizened old women Dany had ever met.

“Eh?” the old woman said, leaning her suspicious face closer, “ _ Rhaella? _ ”

“N-no,” Dany replied, shocked to hear her long-dead mother’s name, but remembering to hold her knife up which she pointed at the woman with a violently shaking left hand, “Daenerys.”

The woman gasped, taking a step back, her face changing from suspicion to...Dany didn’t know a word for it. It was not love or admiration, but there was a fondness to it and the woman’s eyes - which Dany noticed were bright despite the her old and wrinkled appearance - seemed to twinkle. She found herself lowering her knife, strangely pacified by the woman’s expression, though she had never seen it on a face before.

“Daenerys,” the woman said, “Gods bless me. I never thought I’d live to see you again.”

“Again?” Dany repeated through slightly gritted teeth having regained enough composure to feel her angry hand throbbing.

The woman smiled, revealing teeth considerably yellowed with age. “My name is Soraya,” she said, “I was with your family on Dragonstone - I’m a woods witch.”

At this, it was Dany’s turn to take a step backwards, face darkening. Woods witches. Like Essosi godswives. Like Mirri Maz Duur.

Soraya let out a barking laugh that echoed through the cave. It was oddly soothing, and she felt placated from her fears despite herself. “Not like in Essos, dear,” she said, as if reading Dany’s mind, “I just happen to like plants.”

“How did you -”

“Oh,” Soraya replied, grunting as she leaned down to pick up Dany’s dropped candle, “I’m a good listener. Always kept an ear out for Targaryen news on the roads these past years. Though I never expected to see another in the flesh.” 

She held out the candle for Dany. Reaching with her right hand, which shot pain again, Dany hesitated and switched to grabbing it along with the knife in her left hand.

“Something wrong with your hand, dear?” 

“It’s quite a long story,” Dany replied, feeling, again despite herself, a compelling force to trust and speak to the old woman.

“Well,” Soraya said, grunting again as she hobbled past Dany towards the direction of the narrow path, “Why don’t we walk back to where you came from and you can tell me all about what led you to end up in  _ my _ cave. And I can fix your hand up -  _ and _ give you a lesson about not sticking it in winter water!”

“How did you -” Dany started again, following the woman without thinking.

Soraya barked another laugh. “I’m old, dear, not blind!” she said over her shoulder as she started back down the narrow path, torch lighting the way.

~

“Quite a story,” Soraya said to Dany, not looking up from her work. She had produced dozens of strips of multicolored cloth from a sack tied around her waist and was dipping them alternately in a small pail of fire-warmed water from the pool before patting them gently on Dany’s injured hand, which lay on the woman’s lap, in turn. The pail had been tied to another part of her person. In fact, the more Dany looked at Soraya, the more things she found to see. 

Soraya had small bags, pouches, and knick knacks tied in different places around her body. She wore a thick, patched dress of dozens of patterns and colors, which Dany believed to also have several layers for it flowed outwardly around the woman in a way that could not be done by her body alone and seemed to hold even more trinkets. Though seemingly haphazard, Dany thought there must be a method to how Soraya tied everything. None of the items made sounds when she was moving around. 

“Yes,” Dany said, “And I’m still not sure I did the right thing by leaving.” Compelled by her feeling of innate trust, Dany had told the woman almost everything from the end of the Battle at Winterfell (Soraya having already heard most of what happened before that from passing news sources in need of her woods witch healing) to the moment she walked down the narrow path hours before.

Soraya paused in the midst of patting a cloth onto Dany’s hand. “Whether or not it’s the right thing,” she said in a grave tone, “Killing never is. You are not a coward to turn your back on  _ that _ . Nor are you a coward to trust in your choices. The world is still turning, isn’t it?”

Dany nodded solemnly, wincing slightly as Soraya slowly turned her hand over to have the palm face upward. It had begun aching as Soraya treated it and the color had come back more. 

She continued work on Dany’s hand with only the popping of the fire punctuating the still cave air. 

“What would my mother have done?” Dany suddenly asked, breaking the silence. She had never heard much about her mother, the people who knew her family having always been consumed with talk of her brothers and father, and Viserys only ever blaming Dany for Rhaella’s death. 

“That, I do not know,” Soraya replied, “I knew your mother only as her midwife during the months of her pregnancy with you, and she was very withdrawn. We often sat together while I dried and sorted my herbs, but she didn’t speak much. I do know, however, that she only ever hoped for a good life for you and your brother. Even after losing all else, and knowing she was dying, that’s all she spoke of. I have prayed to the gods since the day they took you away across the sea - the day I fled to end up in this very cave before Stannis Baratheon came charging onto Dragonstone - that that would happen. Perhaps the gods  _ are _ listening.”

She gently wrapped Dany’s hand in a long piece of cloth (this one soft and blue with a faint silver pattern) and patted it. It didn’t protest at the touch and Dany found herself smiling at Soraya, feeling light in more ways than just less burdened by hand pain. 

“Thank you, Soraya,” she said. She thought she ought to add more, but found herself at a loss for words.

Soraya placed a wrinkled hand upon Dany’s cheek, her eyes brimmed with emotion as she studied Dany’s face as if to make certain to never forget it. “My dear Daenerys, the gods have blessed me enough today for a whole lifetime.”

Familiar footsteps with a distinct wet sound interrupted the moment. Both women turned towards the source.

“Dany, I -” Jon stopped in his tracks and sentence as he saw the scene before him in the cave.

“Ah,” Soraya said, rising from her rock with a distinct click of old bones, “You must be Jon Snow.”

“Yes, how did you -”

“I’ve been hearing about you for a while now,” Soraya said with a smirk playing across her ancient face. 

She then turned to Dany, her expression the same as it was when they first met in the cave. “I wish you good fortune in the years to come, Daenerys Targaryen. May you find peace from the past and warmth in your future. And may you find use for this,” she said, handing Dany a satchel that she had not seen tied anywhere on Soraya before.

The woods witch nodded once in Jon’s direction and then gave Dany a parting smile before hobbling off down the narrow path. Woman and shuffling footsteps disappeared into the darkness at the same time. 

“What just happened?” Jon asked Dany, bewilderedly settling down on the rock where Soraya had sat and placing his weighed down satchel on the cave floor.

Dany moved to stand closer in front of him, her legs in between his, flush against the rock as a small smile still playing at her lips. She felt her stomach relieved of lead and acid for the first time since they had begun the journey. 

“My hand is getting better,” she said quietly, leaning down slightly to have her face closer to his while lifting up her newly-wrapped appendage to show him. 

“Yes, but -”

“Shhh,” Dany said, placing her arms around Jon, moving down further and pulling him forward into a kiss. 

As he responded, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer, Dany felt warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I quite enjoyed writing this chapter and Soraya (who I wrote with Uncle Iroh on the brain) and hope you did too.


	5. Across the Vale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll be seeing some more significant jumps in time throughout the next few chapters as our pair makes their way further north.

A month of traveling amongst the mountainous, rocky terrain of The Vale had left Dany surefooted, but longingly thinking of wide-open places where their view of the horizon did not get blocked by a peak every time they tried to scan ahead. Jon said that the inhabitants of the Vale claimed it was the most beautiful place in all of Westeros, but Dany thought it was simply overwhelming to see dizzying, impassable peaks and deep, unreachable valleys along every footpath.

Having agreed that it was best to stay away from the main thoroughfares and most people, Jon and Dany had painstakingly picked their way through the mountains, around the castles and settlements of Valemen, mostly finding more caves to stay in along their travels for it was dangerous to sleep outside in the winter weather. Some caves had evidence of being inhabited by the nomadic mountain clans, but they had luckily not run into any of these less-than-friendly inhabitants.

Unable to avoid people entirely, however, they sometimes met other travelers across the Vale who were avoiding the roads for one reason or another. None offered up much about themselves, but Dany enjoyed the strange camaraderie that all seemed to feel for one another, regarding those they met as equals in the journeys they were on. Though guarded, they eagerly swapped news over a fire and often traded possessions with the merchants and travelers.

While the news swapped was mostly idle gossip, they had learned that siege had been laid to King’s Landing by the Northern and Dornish forces (no word on the few remaining Dothraki or Unsullied), though neither side had moved to engage the other past that. Though many travelers in the past couple of weeks spoke of the siege, none knew who led it. 

“But it ain’t that Dragon Queen or that North King,” their current companion said obliviously.

He tore into a bit of lean mountain rabbit that Jon had caught earlier. It was far past midday, but  they tended to eat whenever they came upon a traveler instead of waiting until they had found shelter for the night. Contentedness, in travelers as in armies, was generally found over full bellies. 

Both Jon and Dany feigned surprise at his remark, raising their eyebrows in sync, though Dany kept her eyes on her food.

“Yeh didn’ ‘ear ‘bout that?” the traveler asked them.

“‘Fraid not,” Jon answered placidly in his thickest Northern brogue, “We’ve been traveling rough for some time.”

“Mmph.” The man agreed as he surveyed their appearance: a bit worse for the wear though they did bathe in the last cave they stayed in.  _ And he’s one to judge _ , Dany thought harshly. Their new acquaintance was particularly grubby and Dany was surprised that he didn’t leave brown footprints in the snow as he walked. 

He took another mouthful of rabbit and, chewing loudly, continued. “Well,” he said portentously between chews, “Seems they’ve both gone an’ disappeared. Right away from that dragon island! ‘Eard their people was lookin’ for ‘em, but seems that they just up an’ vanished in the middle o’ the night - same night in fact. Lots sayin’ they was kidnapped or summat like that, but no one ain’t seen hide nor hair of ‘em, even with all them soldiers out lookin’. An’ no one claimed ter have done it either! My guess is they just ran off, don’ want ter be found. ‘S what I woulda done in that shithole. ‘S why we’re out here, eh? So we don’ have ter deal wi’ that.”

The traveler had finished his rabbit by the end of his speech and belched loudly, patting his rather large stomach with a grubby hand. Dany waited for a cloud dust to flounce off of his clothes, but none came and he stood up to stretch his stout limbs. 

“I thank you for the food,” he said to Jon and Dany, “But I best be moving on. There’s a cave ‘bout an hour that way that I’ve used once before. Not many folk know it. Might be good fer yeh.”

With a dip of his head to both of them, he lumbered off, singing to himself.

“Well,” Jon said once the traveler’s singing was out of earshot, “At least we have one vote of confidence.”

Dany rolled her eyes at him as she stood up, wrapping the two rabbit skins from their meal into a bundle and placing them in the satchel Soraya had given her, planning to sew them together with some of the other skins they had collected. 

The satchel had come in abundantly useful, as if Soraya had the gift of forethought. Aside from clean cloths and two pieces of flint for fire starting, the satchel had also contained two pungent pouches of spices, a crude needle and thread, a dozen pieces of multicolored cave quartz, and a bottle containing what Dany later figured out was brown dye. She had taken to wearing the single purple piece of quartz as a necklace, feeling closer to her friend from Crackclaw Point with it on.

Using the first spice (nutmeg), Jon had traded three merchants for warmer clothes, a cloak and gloves for Dany, and some more durable food for when foraging became difficult. Even in small quantities, nutmeg was extremely valuable in Westeros, and the merchants practically gave Jon their whole cache before snatching up a share of nutmeg and whisking off to Wickenden, where Jon said you could find terrifically spiced candles in the markets.

He kept the pouch for the spices, however, and Dany currently had it tied around her waist holding a small mountain clan knife she had found left in a cave and several bits of carved wood. 

Though her hand had healed nicely after being cared for by Soraya, it occasionally ached and had taken to protesting after gripping something for too long. Jon said she was lucky her hand still worked, though, for he had seen men with one less hand or foot because it had been lost to the cold. As such, Dany had resolved herself to learn to use her left hand more and, in that resolve, was learning to make small wooden figurines from Jon, practicing carving with her left hand. She had finished one figurine - a bear - but it looked more like an angry potato with some semblance of a scowling snout (though Jon assured her it was a good first attempt, especially with a non-dominant hand). 

“At least we know we’re still not recognizable,” Dany said as they began walking in the direction the traveler had pointed to the cave. 

“Aye,” Jon replied, “I think averting your eyes seems to do the trick.”

Dany nodded, knowing both of them were remembering a close encounter they’d had with two traveling merchants a week before. While Jon looked like an average Northman, only truly recognizable to those who knew him, Dany was more blatant due to the widespread rumors about the last Targaryen that had persisted since before she even crossed the Narrow Sea. Though she had dyed her distinctive Valyrian silver hair to brown with Soraya’s dye and did not speak in front of other people for she had not yet mastered hiding her highborn accent, the merchants commented several times on how exotic Dany’s violet eyes were and she and Jon had hastened to leave them behind quickly, in the end trading nothing. 

“Should be only a week or so more until we get to the crossing to The Three Sisters,” Jon told her, breaking Dany out of her thoughts as he returned to talking of his favorite subject: geography. He also liked topography and demonstrated himself to be quite the cave spotter when they were on the lookout for shelter, but he could talk about geography for eons longer. 

“We passed between Stonesong and Heart’s Home already, so we’ll just continue on straight north and then we’ll find passage over to the islands. Though I still think we should stay well east of Oldcastle and White Harbor. Not sure if there are any other ports…”

Smiling, Dany led the way as Jon continued to talk of his plans. _It’s like having a thinking map_ , she mused, _and_ _one that continues to write itself_. Jon often turned to talking of geography to pass the time as they walked. He loved to ask her to describe places in Essos over and over again, face marveling with wonder when as she described red deserts and sun-warmed plains as far as they eye could see.

“You should have been a bard,” he once told her after she had described her travels in Qarth to him, “I could listen to your stories forever.” The compliment had left Dany flushed with pride.

Jon was still continuing. “And after we pass by Long Lake, we’ll just have to make our -”

“Jon,” Dany said, interrupting his verbal mapping, “Do you think that’s the cave?”

“Hmm?” He looked to where Dany was pointing. It was a small crack in the face of the rock, looking to be no more than a crack, but Dany had enough experience with caves at this point to make an educated guess that it was bigger on the inside. 

Jon jogged forward towards the crack with a “wait here!” thrown behind his shoulder at Dany. He slipped into the crack and emerged only a few minutes later.

“Good eye,” he said, beckoning her forward towards the cave entrance, “That old traveler was right. It’s quite roomy if you don’t give up with the narrow entrance, and I’d say you found it just in time.” He glanced at the clouds over top the mountains in front of them, which were beginning to look dark and threatening.

Dany nodded and approached the entrance, turning sideways to begin sliding into the narrow fissure.

~

Drogon wasn’t fast enough to fly away from the clawing hands of the Dead. They were like a swarm of locusts that never stopped, and had begun climb Drogon to reach Dany on his back.

“Traitor!” the Dead chanted at her, “Traitor! Traitor!”

Drogon’s wings suddenly spread, and he took off from the plain in a shower of wights who had lost their grip. They were flying to freedom when a whistling sound pierced the sky and a Scorpion bolt flew through her beloved child’s neck. With a chilling shriek, he plummeted to the ground, followed by Dany.

“Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!”

A glint of the silver of a blade in sunlight flashed in front of Dany’s eyes and the voice of a friend now dead echoed in her ears with the final battlecry of, “ _ Dracarys!” _ as woman and dragon hurtled towards the overrun plain and Death’s grasp.

“Dany?”

“NO!” she screamed, bolting to sit upright and opening her eyes to a cave chamber bathed in soft firelight. Her breathing was labored and shallow and she felt sticky and cold in sweat. A hand reached out and touched her arm and she jumped, surprised that her ghost itself did not depart from her body.

“Hey,” Jon said quietly, keeping his hand on arm, “It’s just me. You’re okay. It was just a nightmare.”

Dany looked down at him and allowed herself to be pulled back to laying down against Jon’s chest. Still shaken, she held a handful of his shirt’s fabric, willing herself to be anchored to the room and away from the nightmare as her breathing began to slow down. Jon rubbed her back in slow circles.

“I broke my elbow when I was six,” he said, starting up the familiar game they played every time nightmares plagued their sleep.

“Were you training?” Dany asked.

Jon shook his head and gave a short chuckle. “Nah,” he told her, “Robb and I were pretending to be chickens and I squatted to lay an egg and fell over.”

At that, they both laughed and Dany found herself flooding with calm as the nightmare’s grip on her mind loosened.

“Your turn,” Jon murmured. 

“Hmm...okay. When I was little, I was convinced that Targaryens actually became dragons when they got older, that they didn’t just ride them. I was so excited to become a dragon, I got a headstart on flight training, climbed out my bedroom window, and launched myself off the lemon tree, planning to make a graceful touchdown into the garden.”

“Then what happened?”

“Let’s just say there’s a reason several of my toes aren’t straight,” she said as they laughed more. Dany smiled, remembering how Ser Darry had laughed at the explanation she gave him as she was getting fixed up in the kitchen that day. Her smile continued, relishing in learning a new anecdote about Jon. 

Despite having thought they knew each other well, Jon and Dany had quickly realized in the past month that they had barely ever shared information past politics and war. And yet here they were now, talking of their childhoods and laughing together, free from the horrors that had surrounded them. Just together in a quiet cave.

She lifted up slightly to look at Jon, memories of the nightmare dissipating away as she gazed at his face, creased with soft smile lines from their laughter. It was the face of a man who she now felt was no longer an ally, but someone she was close to - someone she loved. Loved without obligation or political need. Loved simply because she did.  _ I do love him _ , Dany thought, though she had not dared to voice her sentiments aloud. Not out of shame, but out of wanting to let things form naturally like the caves they had come across on their travels.  _ Perhaps not over thousands of years, though _ .

As if sensing her change in thoughts, Jon’s hand slowed at rubbing her back and she felt the pressure of it increase while she watched as his throat bobbed up and down in a hard swallow.

It was instinctual, like a raven traveling to its mark with a message, for Dany to lean forward towards Jon’s face. Reciprocating, Jon lifted up and closed the distance between them.


	6. Need

The kiss began as brief and comforting, like all the short kisses they’d had in the Vale so far, but it quickly metamorphosed into something new.

Jon added more pressure to the hand at Dany’s back, pulling her down to him. His tongue courted her lips, requesting an entrance that Dany obliged as her heart stuttered in response to the new sensation.

Scalp tingling, Dany felt Jon thread a hand through her hair, cradling her head with an insistent pull to deepen the kiss. She answered in kind, bringing him to quicken their kisses to a more urgent pace as their tongues danced with each other.

Heat flooded through Dany’s body and in one fluid motion, she pulled at his shoulders until he sat them both up with her straddling his legs. The urgency in their kisses picked up even more. Dany found herself attempting to pull Jon’s body closer and closer to fill up any gap of space between them. She wanted him - all of him - more desperately than she had thought was possible. The world melted from around them until all Dany’s senses were focused solely on the man before her.

Jon’s hand had shifted on her back, finding the break between the trousers and shirt Dany wore to sleep in and sliding his hand onto her bare back. At his touch, Dany’s back arched towards him, arms embracing him even tighter as she moaned softly into their kiss.

“Dany,” Jon said breathlessly, breaking the kiss and pulling back ever so slightly.

“Don’t stop, Jon,” Dany breathed, lips still almost touching his. He smelled of cold earth and the fresh mountains. It enveloped her and made her greedy for more. “ _Please_. Don’t stop.”

“Okay,” Jon agreed, his lips brushing against hers with the word as his hand untangled from her hair to join the other on her back, “I won’t.”

Beginning to kiss her again, Jon ran his fingers lightly up and down her back in an electrifying pattern that had Dany punctuating their kisses with small, breathy sounds of pleasure which built up to a full body shudder that left her feeling both hot and cold. Smiling into their continued kiss at this, Jon moved to shift his hands around to her front, barely asking permission before Dany’s back curved to allow him access.

There, he ghosted along her stomach, feeling her muscles pleasurably contract with each new sound he drew from her. He continued along up to her chest-

“Oh!” Dany cried softly, breaking the kiss to look at Jon as his finger ran over one already raised nipple. They locked gazes and in the firelight Dany saw Jon’s eyes had turned near black with desire. She let out a shaky breath she had not realized was being held in and stayed staring at him for moment before eagerly moving back to kiss him more.

Jon’s ministrations over her breasts advanced with one hand, while the other slipped back down to the small of her back and edge of her trousers, coaxing Dany’s hips to rock forward. He alternately brushed his fingers against her nipples, making her breath hitch each time.

Once he had Dany’s kisses quivering, Jon paused what he was doing to tug her shirt over her head, followed quickly by his own after Dany’s wordless pulling on it. He pressed his hand up at her back, encouraging her to rise onto her knees so that she had to lean down to keep kissing him.

“Jon!” she gasped, eyes opening, grabbing at his head to pull him to her as he broke their kiss to bring his mouth to suck on one nipple. Her back arched towards him again, head thrown back, and Dany felt heat pooling between her legs as her eyes closed once again to relish in the other senses she had. Her heart seemed to be trying to fly as its beat increased faster, faster.

Swiping his tongue around her nipple once more, Jon shifted his head to give the other one similar attention while his hands got bolder. They slid past the hem of her trousers, grasping her small buttocks before one finger glided gently up the center, earning a buck of Dany’s hips in reward.

Suddenly, Dany was lying on her back and Jon had abandoned his sucking to stalk up her neck with a blazing trail of nips and kisses until he reached her mouth. As they kissed, his hands became ever more insistent, tugging at her trousers until she lifted her hips up for them to come off while she held Jon close.

“You too,” Dany breathed, pulling him even closer, hungry for more of his mouth on hers.

Careful not to break the kiss, Jon wriggled out of his own trousers so they were bare together. He nestled himself in between Dany’s legs as she wrapped her arms more firmly around him, one hand tangling in his hair. One of Jon’s hands drew a long trail down the side of her body before sliding across the curve of her hip to ghost over her center.

“ _Oh…_ ” Dany whimpered as his hand moved deliriously through folds already wet with pleasure. It lasted too short a time, and as he withdrew his hand to trail back up her body, Dany indistinctly protested and canted her hips after him, making Jon gasp as he felt her against his hardened member.

“Now,” she whispered against his lips, pushing her hips forward once more and trying to meld their bodies into one.

“Hmm?” Jon muttered back, continuing to kiss her and still trailing his hand up and down her side.

“Mm, now,” she all but begged, moving her hands to his butt and using all of her delirious strength to pull him into her with no avail.

“Please, Jon,” she cried wantonly, “ _Please_. Plea- oh!”

He had listened. Dany’s eyes opened and locked with Jon’s. His eyes were filled with yearning not yet satisfied and she knew hers must have as well. They stayed still, joined, and it seemed as if the very world had stopped in that moment to allow them more time to savor this feeling. Dany felt her walls pulsing around him and knew he did too, for his eyes became more hungry and dark with desire. She smiled and he returned it before moving in to kiss her with even more fervor than before.

Slowly, he began to move rhythmically in and out, causing sensations that left Dany crying out in rapture and trembling beneath him.

Wet desire coated where they were joined and as Dany began to come undone, kept from complete euphoria only by the will for Jon to keep thrusting inside her, as he set a more rapid pace. Teetering on the edge of release, his thrusts began to elicit keen and unintelligible sounds from her into their kisses and she palmed at his back more fervently.

Whether she had asked for it or not, Dany was not sure, but Jon slipped one hand between them to tempt her to unravel. The new sensations made Dany’s body shiver with ecstasy as he brought one finger in circles around her sensitive core.

She lost sense of who she was and grasped at Jon with urgency as her body went near rigid, shaking while her back arched in carnal need for more. _More_.

Then, release.

It came with a wanton moan as she fell from rigid to boneless, lights popping into her eyesight as she opened her eyes to see the man who had been her undoing and tremors wracked her body again and again while he continued to thrust towards his own ending, running his finger over her clit still, sure to keep her going until she was clinging to him, trembling.

He followed her over the edge, spilling himself into her as he came down on top of her body, unable to hold himself up any longer.

The lovers held each other as their highs slowly came down, chests beginning to heave less rapidly, leaving them with the indescribable feeling of bliss that only came during these quiet moments after passion. She still trembled around him as they lay there and when he went to slip out, she held him closer.

“Stay,” Dany whispered to him, her voice drowsy but with distinct happiness, “Just stay.”

“Mmm, okay,” Jon replied, kissing her temple before beginning to trace light patterns on her skin that coaxed more soft tremors from her.

Dany sighed contentedly, eyes closed as she lost herself in what Jon was drawing and in the man himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caves?


	7. Shekhikh ki Shieraki

“You can see the Night Lamp already!” Jon said, pointing from the boat he and Dany had taken passage on to get to Sisterton, where the Night Lamp guided the way for passing vessels. Located on Sweetsister, one of the Three Sisters islands, it had a reputation that permeated far past Westeros. 

Though she knew it was a good choice, a fast choice, and definitely the right choice to travel through Sisterton rather than north near the King’s Road, Dany was not looking forward to their stopover.

The most notorious den of thieves and pirates in Westeros, Sisterton’s inhabitants (the Sistermen of the Three Sisters) served only themselves. While it meant that they had not taken sides in the Great War, it also meant that the Sistermen were much more unpredictable.

Coming ashore once their boat had docked, Jon took Dany’s hand and they plunged into the crowded streets of mud and plank towards an inn they had heard of from a traveler near the shores of the Vale.  

The whole town reeked of rotting fish, stale drunkard, and animal manure. Ramshackle hovels stood in lines that looked as if they would blow over with a gust of wind. Despite the chill of winter, the entire town felt humid and stuffy. All around Dany, men shouted at each other or at scantily-dressed women, drank straight from barrels, and tipped over into the mud with their lips still around a bottle. 

Three times, Dany saw herself sauntering down the street, ass and breasts uncovered for the men to ogle and grope at. She worked with great difficulty to arrange her face into any expression that wasn’t disgust and noticed that Jon seemed to have locked his jaw after they passed the third Dany while winding through to the inn. 

The Fish Barrel was a slight improvement from the streets of Sisterton in that it wasn’t muddy. Drunken men crowded the bottom floor, similar to those outside, and Dany saw another version of herself straddling a man, who seemed to have lost most of his drink in his oily beard, while allowing herself to be groped by others. 

The inn stood taller - though it was still as ramshackle - than the surrounding buildings, and Jon paid the haggard-looking innkeeper for a room for one night on the top floor using some of the coin they had traded nutmeg for with the traveling Vale merchants. 

“You best be plannin’ on sharin’ her, lad!” one of the men groping the false Dany shouted at Jon. 

“Aye!” agreed one of his companions, “No need to be greedy now!”  

Jon started towards the men, hand habitually moving to reach for his sword, but Dany held him back, shaking her head. 

“See,” the first man insisted, “Even yer wench knows what’s good fer -”

He choked on his words as Dany caught his eye with a look she had once used upon the Master of Astapor when she freed the Unsullied. Though not wishing to burn this man, the look did the job all the same. Satisfied, Dany led Jon up the rickety set of stairs to their room on the fourth floor. 

“Well, it’s not a cave,” Jon said as they walked inside. A table in the room’s corner lay overturned with one leg missing and, when Jon lay on the bed, they heard the distinct sag of the floor underneath it as if one wrong move would send it plummeting through every story and onto the loud, drunk men.  _ Would they even notice if a bed fell on them? _ Dany thought, allowing her face to wrinkle with disgust for the first time.

“Let’s just rest until first light, buy passage on any ship northward that floats, and forget this ever happened,” Dany told him with a thick tone of agitation as she lay down next to him (the floor creaked even more threateningly). Getting called a wench had been the last straw.

She was feeling increasingly claustrophobic in Sisterton and, shockingly, missing the secluded paths of the Vale that they had spent so much time traversing. Thick fogs had hindered their journey so much that they had been there nearly four more weeks, unable to move on for fear of taking a wrong step off a cliffside they couldn’t see. 

Dany could not honestly complain about it, however. Drawn together after the first night they had spent exploring each others’ bodies, every moment not walking had been a moment steeped in pleasure and passion for the two of them to the point that Dany’s breasts had stayed swollen and tender from Jon’s care. Each time they spent each other so completely that they could not continue,  butDany was still left wanting more of Jon. Tonight, though, she could not think of anything she would want to do less.

Try as she did to will herself to sleep, it never came amidst the raucous noise from below that only quieted down right at the end of their stay. She lay unblinkingly fixated on a specific thatch in the ceiling without thought. As soon as the sky near-imperceptibly paled, he shot up out of the bed ready to leave and Dany realized that she had never heard his breathing slow.

~

Downstairs, the innkeeper greeted them with two bowls of hot Sister’s Stew - a trademark white seafood dish across the Three Sisters - that he pressed into their hands, herding them to an empty table in spite of their insistence that they did not need any.

Around them, still-drunk patrons of the inn snored noisily on benches and the floor while others slurped up the stew sitting alone at tables or in pairs, dark-circles under their bloodshot eyes.

Politely, Jon and Dany took a couple spoonfuls of stew, which tasted surprisingly nice for coming from an inn such as The Fish Barrel. But no sooner had they begun to eat did a Sisterman burst into the inn with a shout. 

“KING’S LANDING IS BURNING!” he announced. 

Choking on her stew, Dany looked up in horror at the man along with Jon and the other patrons. 

“It’s true!” he continued, “It’s gone up in green fire, the Red Keep, the whole city! Just like the Sept!”

Dany locked eyes with Jon, suddenly nauseous. “The siege,” she mouthed silently, horror reflecting in her eyes as acid poured into her churning stomach as if Wildfire had been set off there as well. All those people - all those children like the ones Rhaegar escaped from royal duties to make music with in Flea Bottom - were they all gone? And the people they had fought aside? Were they gone as well?

Wordlessly, Jon got up and led Dany out of then inn as the patrons swarmed the still-shouting Sisterman to the point where no word was intelligible. He pulled her along through the mud to the dark docks, quiet in the still hour between drunken frolic and working men, before leaving her on the steps to go speak to the harbormaster. 

Unable to keep the acid down any longer, Dany vomited over the edge of the steps into the mud once and then again. Her skin was clammy and her stomach felt as if she was continuously falling from a peak in the Vale.

_ King’s Landing is burning! King’s landing is burning! _ The words clashed in her head in a cacouphanus rhythm. She vomited a third time, nearly dropping to her knees as her stomach sought to turn itself inside out and her throat tried to eject her stomach. Gasping for air, she swayed on the steps, feet slipping dangerously close to the edge.  _ King’s Landing is burning! King’s Landing is burning! The whole city!  _ Was there anyone left?

“Easy,” Jon murmured, suddenly next to her again, catching her from behind, “Easy, Dany.”

Though she did not remember moving her feet from the spot on the dock steps, he guided her onto a small fishing boat, where she sat on a box, completely green and head drooping forward, too heavy for her neck to keep upright.

Jon knelt before her, his hand gripping hers so strongly that her fingers began to tingle. 

“What are we going to do, Jon?” she barely whispered, audible only because he was so close to her. Men hurried around them, preparing for the vessel to cast off with the beginnings of first light.

“Do you want to go back?” he asked her. Dany glanced up at him. His face was serious. Dark. Distantly, she heard the shout of the captain as the boat began to move from the docks, leaving Sisterton behind. 

Face burning in shame, she shook her head.  _ No _ . She was sure of her answer, though it made her feel sicker. Faces flashed in her mind:  _ Grey Worm, Ser Davos, Tyrion _ …

Another voice spoke in her head, so clear she felt as though the old woman was next to her.  _ You are not a coward to trust in your choices _ . Dany touched the piece of purple quartz around her neck, remembering the words of Soraya. Strength beginning to return, she raised her head more fully to face Jon. “No,” she told him, “I don’t.”

Jon nodded once in silent agreement and moved to sit down next to her on the box from which they both turned to look out on the water. Their destination was already visible, the shore of the North being only a short distance from the Three Sisters. They sat together, simply staring at the land slowly growing on the horizon and listening to the smooth waves that lapped at the boat, until Jon spoke.

“When my father…” he paused, tensing as he lingered on what he had said.

He and Dany had not spoken of Jon’s parentage since she begged him not to tell the other Starks. With where they were at now, having just cemented their decision not to return, Dany felt it had lost any bearing on their relationship. They were leaving names behind.

“Ned Stark?” Dany asked casually, still looking at the horizon.

Jon’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “Aye,” he said before continuing, “When he died, I tried to desert the Night’s Watch to fight for the North.”

“What happened?”

“Sam stopped me. Him and Pyp and Grenn,” Jon told her, a note of wist in his voice as he remembered friends past, “They reminded me of my oath. Of what my priorities were.”

He turned from the horizon to look at Dany and she returned the gaze, finding him intense. “ _ You’re _ my priority now,” he told her firmly, placing his hands on her shoulders, “Whatever happens, whatever’s over the next rise, it will always be you.”

~

They sheltered in a copse of thick, interwoven trees that night. Small gaps provided places for starlight to shine through, but it was well protected from the biting wind. Neither was hungry and, after hastily striking the flint to make a fire for warmth, they gravitated towards each other to become one.

Languid, Jon and Dany took the time to map every bit of each other’s forms as they lay amongst their furs under the trees and stars. Lost in each other, their hands roamed freely around the bodies that were in a slow, rhythmic motion together. Dany felt her skin prick in the places where Jon’s fingers had slipped past, each touch pushing her to hold him closer in her own exploration.

Their mouths explored too, tongues delicately shifting around each other with each kiss before Jon broke his away to blaze a trail to where her pulse beat in her neck. His tongue grazed her jawline before he sucked at that point, pushing himself into her harder as he did.

“Ah!” Dany gasped, back arching with the sudden change in tempo. Her hands moved back up his body to tangle in his hair, holding his head at her neck.

She rolled her hips to push Jon into a faster pace, but he held frustratingly steady. 

“Want it to last,” he breathed into her neck. 

“Mm,” Dany replied, unable to find any words as her back arched again in response to a lick of his tongue. She lost herself in him again, giving herself away to her senses.

Only later, as they lay wound around each other staring up at the chinks of starlight between the trees, did Dany find her voice. 

“The Dothraki believe everything of importance should be done under the sky,” Dany told him, shifting around so that their noses were separated by only a breath.

“Aye?” Jon replied, smiling and placing a playful kiss upon her nose. 

Dany nodded slowly, eyes wide. “Yes. Which is why…” she paused and swallowed, second guessing herself.

“Go on,” he whispered. 

Breathing in deeply, she did. “I love you,” she said, “I feel as though I fall in love with you more each day. And I...thought you should know.”

She punctuated her words with a soft smile, which Jon returned before kissing her again, this time with more passion. 

“I love you as well,” he said once they broke apart, “‘Til the end of my days. And beyond even that.”  

“Beyond even that,” Dany agreed. They shifted back to looking up, interlacing fingers and watching the sky together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the chapter is Dothraki for "Starlight." (literally "light of the stars")


	8. Revelations

Dany did not know whether it was from the continuous drop in temperature as they ventured further into the North or the nightmares that still permeated into her sleep, but she could not remember ever feeling more tired.

Since they left Sisterton, a manic urgency to get past the Wall and out of the Seven Kingdoms (or whatever was left of it) had made its home among the two. They pressed on through the cold terrain, relying on Jon’s sense of his homeland to guide them away from main thoroughfares and other people.

Worse for Dany than the tiredness was the nausea, which had not been abated since the news they received in Sisterton. Choosing to not go back, to not seek out more information about what had happened or who was still alive, to go against every instinct she had built up as a former leader, left Dany feeling ill for several days afterwards. She expected that the nausea was residual from that illness.

Nonetheless, she continued to have increasing difficulty keeping down full meals and often had to supplement what she lost with small nibbles at bread as they walked. Meanwhile, she noticed that Jon had stopped eating any bread.

Displeased at his behavior, but not wanting to admit that she felt worse than she let on, Dany had begun repeating a mantra in her head to try and focus on something past her nausea. While it did not do much good, her heart seemed to have taken on the mantra’s rhythm: _Get past the Wall. Get past the Wall. Get past the Wall and you’ll be okay._

With a better knowledge of the land, even by his usual geography standards, Jon shied away from poor weather less. But though they consistently made progress every day, battling the snow drifts and ice rain that plagued the North, their pace had definitely slowed. Neither one of them acknowledged that it was from Dany’s fatigue, they just did not speak of the change at all. They were nearly through the northern edge of Wolfswood, a little over a month and a half after their first night beneath the stars on the shores of the North, when a true blizzard hit.

“And how do you say ‘north?’” Jon asked as they picked along through the trees looking for firewood before night set in. Having exhausted asking her about places in Essos, Jon had turned to asking Dany about languages after learning she knew five.

“ _Valshe_ ,” Dany replied, peering around a fir tree, “And northerner is _valshek_ .” It was good, Dany thought, to be able to speak something other than Common Tongue again. She hadn’t realized how much she missed having her tongue wrangle over the words everyone else deemed too harsh. _It sounds like the galloping of a horse_ , Dany preferred to think whenever someone criticized the language.

“Val-shik,” Jon repeated.

Dany giggled at his Northern accent on a Dothraki word. “Sh-ehk,” she corrected, “Ehk.”

“ _Valshek_. What about in Valyrian?”

“Well,” Dany said, stooping to grab a branch, “In High Valyrian, _jelmor_ is ‘north,’ but I don’t know if there’s - what’s wrong?”

Jon had stopped searching for sticks and was staring at the sky, breathing deeply. “Snow’s on the air,” he told her, “We’d best get to shelter, it smells like a storm.”

~

Galloping across the great warm plains of grass, Dany spread her arms wide as she urged her Silver to run even faster. She had missed the kiss of warm sun on her skin and turned to tell Jon that, only to see his bay shimmer into the great scaly form of Rhaegal.

Beneath her, the Silver had changed to the black form of Drogon, though he still galloped like a horse onwards through the grass until both dragons and riders plunged off the edge of the grass into icy waters.

Unseated from the dive, Dany watched underwater as Drogon took off again, breaking the surface of the sea. She began to swim upwards to follow him, only for the world to spin so that she was swimming down towards the sinking form of Rhaegal. Flipping, she began to swim in what was the proper direction, but the sea pulled her down towards where Rhaegal had vanished. Down into the dark nothing, Dany thought she saw a flash of white before remembering that she could not breathe.

“Stop!” she shouted out loud, her yell reverberating off the cave walls and snapping her out of the dream. She was laying on the furs in front of the fire, panting and feeling as though she had been holding her breath. _I’m not in Essos_ , she told herself as she tried to suck in more air, _I’m in the North. I’m not under water._

Dany sat up, shaking her head as if to get the imaginary water out of her ears. She could still taste the icy, brackish water from her dreams and fought not to vomit.

Jon was already awake across the fire, looking up from his work on a small carving from the pouch Dany kept around her waist. “You’re up,” he said when he noticed her sitting. He set the knife and figurine down on a rock, and came over to sit down next to her.

“Did I oversleep?” Dany asked.

Jon shrugged. “I think it’s nearly midday, maybe a bit after, but I can’t quite tell - snow’s too thick. We’ll have to wait it out another night.”

 _Midday? Why didn’t he say anything?_ Dany’s eyes widened at learning how long she had been asleep. Answering her unasked question, Jon told her, “I thought you could use the extra rest. You were tossing and turning all night.” Absently, he toyed with a lock of Dany’s hair that had fallen from the loose braid she had taken to wearing. It was a mix of silver, bronze, and brown from the dye and Dany expected she would have to re-dye it in disguise at least once more.

“I had a dream that I was stuck underwater,” Dany told him. _I feel like I’m still there_ , she added silently, throat still stinging and stomach churning.

“Is that why you shot awake?”

She nodded, stretching her arms above her head. Her body felt oddly proportioned, as if it were stretched, itchy, and too small at the same time. She felt strange, like she couldn’t think or move properly anymore. The water from her dream seemed to still be around her, forcing her to exert considerable effort to do anything.

Trying to shake off the odd feelings, she got up from the furs, considering pulling out her own carving work to join Jon seeing as they weren’t going anywhere. She had progressed from making angry potatoes and now was working on a more placid-looking potato with vaguely wolf-shaped ears and four stubby legs splayed straight out of its sides. Her first attempt at a paw had gone disastrously, leading to one leg being half as long as the others.

Jon rose to follow her and then he was sitting her down on a rock, virtually carrying her.

“Dany, what’s wrong? Are you sick?” two Jons asked her, their tone of voice alarmed.

“What? I just stumbled, Jon. It happens,” Dany retorted grumpily, mind beginning to make sense of what had just happened when had taken a heavy step, as though on the sea floor, and the whole world spun around her. _What is wrong with me?_

Her eyes refocused so that only one Jon was staring at her when, as if to prove his point, her body suddenly mutinied with a wave of nausea so powerful that Dany bent over where she sat and vomited bile.

While still leaning over the rock, gasping for air after the sudden expulsion, she reached for the smaller of their two satchels, and the bowl of water Jon had been drinking from, and slowly moved back into sitting position, ignoring Jon’s harsh face and crossed arms that demanded the truth from her.

After drinking the water to clear her mouth, her attention turned to the satchel. She felt around in the satchel for the second spice pouch, containing lavender, that Soraya had given her, which she had taken to sniffing to ward of the more serious bouts of nausea. Tugging it out roughly, she brought the bottle of brown dye with it. The bottle top fell off and the contents spilled over her shirt and the cave floor.

Dany swore.

“Here, let me -”

“No, Jon! I’m _capable_ ,” Dany snapped, spitefully ignoring how his voice had softened. Dropping the satchel and spice pouch to join the empty dye bottle on the floor, she yanked off her shirt.

 _First I think I’m drowning. Then I fall over like a swooning maiden._ Then _I vomit. And now I’ve made an absolute mess_ , she thought angrily, flipping the shirt upside down to look at how bad the stain was. In the firelight, the brown-red color reminded her of when her bleeding first started each -

Dany’s heart dropped, as did the shirt from her hand, and she felt the waves of nausea take over again as she raised a hand over her breast - sore and swollen, though she had thought it was from Jon, whom she had sought out each night despite being fatigued - remembering a moment long past with unfocused eyes. She could hear Irri’s voice as if her handmaiden were in the cave.

 _“When was last time you bleed,_ khaleesi _?” When was the last time she bled? On Crackclaw Point?_

 _“You change,_ khaleesi. _” Had she?_ Unconsciously, she brought her hand down from her breast to brush over her stomach. Her eyes began to sting and she felt the first tear fall without warning. Why was she crying?

Mirri Maz Duur’s words echoed over Dany’s thoughts: _“When the sun rises in the west, and sets in the east. When the seas go dry, and the mountains blow in the wind like leaves.”_

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and Dany’s breathing quickened as she found herself repeating a phrase over and over, “Impossible, impossible.”

“Seven hells. Wha - Dany, _why are you crying_?” Jon asked. His voice was urgent and he sounded bewildered. Dany wildly regarded what she must have looked like from the outside, for inside she was feeling a spectrum of emotions from elation to dread. She had no idea which one the tears were from, only that they wouldn’t stop flowing.

Her mouth moved soundlessly as she tried to answer his question, afraid to say it out loud for fear of it being true.

And for fear of it being false.

“Dany,” Jon started, taking both of her hands as he stood over her and bringing her up into his embrace. She clung to him, afraid to trust her own legs and desperate to feel him, to feel something possible.

He moved his hands to her face, tilting it upwards so she could look at him with wet eyes. “What is it, my love?” he asked her gently.

“Jon,” she whispered, voice cracking, as she backed out of their embrace to take his hands from her face and place them upon her stomach, “I think I’m pregnant.”

It was Jon’s turn to stumble, though he caught himself enough to walk shakily back to the furs and sit down in a less than dignified manner. His gray eyes were wide and he looked like someone who had just been whacked over the head by a crone brandishing a broom.

“You said that couldn’t happen,” came his hollow reply.

“Maybe you were right instead,” Dany said, kneeling down and watching his face carefully.

When he didn’t speak again, but just stared into the fire with unblinking eyes, Dany’s stomach forgot its nausea and simply dropped. _He’s upset_ , Dany thought, devastation creeping through as she realized that part of her, buried deep below the anxiety, actually was happy.

“I’m sorry,” she said, words steeped in dejection, “Jon, I’m so -”

“Don’t be,” he told her, voice hoarse as he turned to look at her.

His face wasn’t regretful or angry. There was light in his eyes. He broke into a smile, first small and then broadening into a wide grin as he rose to kneel facing her, bringing his hands back to her stomach as he moved closer to her.

Dany had to stifle a sob of joy that she had no idea was in her throat, masking it as a breathy one-note laugh as she placed her hands over his.

“You’re happy?” Dany asked, smiling as a flood of relief and joy raised her stomach back up and fended off the residual nausea.

Jon nodded, several times with increasing vigor, before pulling her in close for a scorching kiss as if to show evidence for his answer.

“Ah, wait,” he said, pausing the kiss before it had even really started, “Can I do that? I mean can we still, you know, because you’re - and I don’t want to -”

Dany cut him off, kissing him again before pulling back. “Yes,” she said simply, going back in for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to just take a second and thank you all for being such incredible readers. Reading your comments every day is truly a gift and I'm so happy that we get to share in this wonderful adventure together!
> 
> Also, almost forgot: I was listening to "Walk Me Home" by P!nk in the car today and thought it fit in very well with how Dany has been feeling, so I highly suggest giving it a listen!


	9. At Castle Black

Moving closer and closer to the Wall, Dany began to feel apprehensive and exposed as they ventured nearer to the Kingsroad. They needed to get to Castle Black, where the Wildlings (“ _ Free folk _ ,” Jon had corrected) were sheltering as they healed from the Battle at Winterfell, and it just so happened to be at the very end of the road they had been avoiding from the beginning. Jon felt certain that nobody else would be there, believing the news they had heard about the bulk of Northern forces having been part of the siege at King’s Landing, but Dany was suspicious. 

“Half of the people we could meet would want to execute us both for running away - though technically we committed treason against ourselves. The others would want to kill me and crown you - if there’s a crown left, that is.  _ And _ , on the off chance we met someone who wouldn’t want me dead, they’d probably be killing you and I quite prefer you alive,” she told him one night, annoyed at his optimistic assertion, “We don’t even know how Westeros is being governed. We could be walking through complete anarchy right now!”

“Do you have a better idea?” Jon had snapped back coldly, taking Dany aback.

Jon softened. “Sorry. This is just a lot more difficult to do than I thought. And I don’t know why I thought it wouldn’t be.”

“It’s all right,” Dany replied, taking his hand, “You’re doing your best with what we’ve got.”

“We both are,” he amended, placing his other hand overtop theirs.

They had avoided people since Sisterton, at first because the potential for Jon being recognized grew exponentially, but also because Dany’s silver hair was showing as of late since she spilled the last of the dye. This meant their knowledge of what was happening in the Seven Kingdoms was woefully outdated. Thrice they narrowly missed being spotted by groups of people on horseback, and more times they had seen evidence of increasing activity in the areas around them. “Friend or foe?” was a constant refrain on Dany’s mind whenever these instances occurred.

Once, they saw a group of three riders in the distance that included a woman with red hair that stood out against the snowy landscape. Dany had felt Jon stiffen beside her and knew he was thinking the same thing as her:  _ had that been Sansa? _

Neither had spoken much on their thoughts of those they had left behind, but they had thoughts all the same. Dany often lay awake in the middle of the night desperately praying that Grey Worm had led the Unsullied and the Dothraki back to Essos and left Westeros behind. Her stomach ached with familiarly shameful feelings of selfishness each day as she took steps further and further away from where they could be waiting for her to return. But it was a dull ache, tending to settle behind the knowledge that life was growing within her. She was now very certain she was pregnant, having missed a third bleeding last week, and it was a constant beacon of joy for the pair despite their frayed nerves.  

She had her first nausea-free day three days earlier and it had held steady for the most part, allowing her to enjoy a real meal again, which, tonight, consisted of rabbit and the last of their hard cheese.

“I think,” Jon said carefully after they ate, watching as Dany folded up the rabbit skin and bent down to place it in her satchel, “We may make it to the Wall by tomorrow.”

They had been able to see it, towering in the distance, from the shelter they had found (an abandoned hut within a small copse of trees) before the night set in.

“Can we really be there?” she mused, lifting up and turning to face him. He opened his mouth to reply, but it was lost as Dany dramatically threw out her hands and leaned forward to balance as her head spun.

“ _ Oh _ , wait,” she said quickly, moving to sit on the furs they had already laid out, “Sorry, I moved too fast.”

Jon chuckled, moving so he could sit down beside her. “Too excited?” he joked. Her dramatic reactions to her upswing in dizzy spells had turned into a source of humor for both of them, given how graceful Dany tended to be.

“Yes,” Dany told him, “And nervous...I tend not to be well-received at new places that often.”

She realized that she had been thinking about the last statement for a while. The free folk were completely foreign to her and she to them. She knew little of their culture, -  _ cultures? - _ only that they had been decimated by the Night King and the Army of the Dead. And she knew they were proud of never kneeling. How could she hope for them to accept her, when for so long she had demanded everyone bend the knee? 

Jon, although she knew he was only replying to what she had said out loud, seemed to answer her thoughts. “You have the same heart they saw at Winterfell,” he told her, “And you’re not trying to conquer them. The gods made the earth for all to share. We’re allowed to share it with them.”

His certainty was strong and Dany remembered how Jon had told her of his time living amongst the free folk as one of them with fondness. She thought of the respect and love that all of them had regarded him with at Winterfell. In a way, though they had passed Winterfell weeks ago, Jon was going home.

_ As am I _ , Dany thought, feeling intensely sure of herself as she gazed at the man sitting beside her. He was her home. Her future.  _ Hers _ .

In an instant, she had moved to be straddling his lap, wrapping her arms around him as she kissed him, suddenly desperate to put her feelings into actions.

Jon responded, his arms coming to hold her close as Dany’s kisses intensified beyond passion to become fiercely demanding. She paused to pull off his shirt and her own before hungrily returning for more, forcing Jon to try and keep up with the blazing pace she had set. His hands only had time to move to settle around her hips - where they had come to rest every night since he had found out he was going to be a father - before Dany had pushed him to lay down and began to trail kisses from his mouth down. 

“Where are you going?” Jon teased breathlessly as her trail edged close to his navel. 

Briefly, Dany looked up, a coy smile playing at her lips. “Nowhere,” she whispered, “Nowhere you aren’t.” 

Jon began to laugh, but it quickly changed to a gasp as Dany continued her descent. 

~

In the recent months, Dany had become very well-acquainted with the vastness of the world. She had walked the length of the whole of the North of Westeros and had felt dwarfed by every peak, every valley, and every expanse to which they had looked ahead.

Yet now, standing before the opening gates of Castle Black - the last part of Westeros she needed to walk through to be free of everything she had once sought out - she felt somehow even more diminished. Was this what it was like to be faced with the beginning of your future?

_ Our future _ , Dany reminded herself, conscious of Jon standing next to her and even more conscious of the quiet swell beneath her clothes. 

She reached for Jon’s hand, stepping closer to him as the gates finished opening and the figure of a broad-shouldered man walked out to stand before them. He folded his arms across his chest and looked them up and down gruffly. Dany squeezed Jon’s hand apprehensively.

The man’s ginger beard quivered as his face broke into an enormous grin.

“You fucker,” Tormund Giantsbane said to Jon, “I thought you were dead, you son of a bitch!”

Theatrically, Jon lifted his hand up to inspect it. “Well we’re not ghosts,” he replied, also grinning. Tormund boomed a laugh as he and Jon embraced as if they were long lost brothers. The big ginger man clapped Jon on the shoulder so hard that Dany was certain she heard a suppressed grunt of pain. 

Then Tormund turned to regard Dany. “‘Fraid I won’t be kneeling to you any time soon,” he told her cooly, getting straight to the point. 

“Wasn’t planning on asking,” Dany replied, surprising herself by matching his tone. She was unsure of where her response came from, but immediately knew it was the right one. Tormund boomed another laugh before unexpectedly picking Dany up into a bone-crushing vice grip she believed to be his version of a hug. 

She saw Jon stiffen protectively, but Tormund had already sat her down before he could say anything. He began pulling them through the gates of Castle Black shouting, “LOOK WHO’S BACK FROM THE DEAD _AGAIN_!” to the other Free Folk in the yard. They weren’t able to move very far, however, before Jon had another reunion. 

Ghost gave a low whine, shyly walking forward to sniff at Jon, who knelt down and placed an outstretched hand into the direwolf’s shaggy white coat. Tail wagging, Ghost licked Jon’s smiling face before turning to lead his family further inside.

~

“What are you writing?” Dany asked sleepily from one side of the bed in the old maester’s quarters. Ghost was sprawled across the rest of it, head resting over Dany’s stomach and eyes closed as he enjoyed the scratches behind the ear Dany was currently giving him. The direwolf had taken to her with quick ease and, after a first sniff, had not left her side since they entered Castle Black.

Jon didn’t look up as he spoke. “A letter,” he told her, “To Sam. To...explain.” Though Tormund did not know everything about what had been happening, he did confirm that what they heard in Sisterton was true: King’s Landing had been burned by wildfire.

“He said that one second they were keeping watch over the siege, and the next:  _ FWOOSH! _ ” at that part in the description, Tormund had stood up and arched his hands over his head, “The green flames came one after another! Then everyone was running all over the place, trying to help people out of the city or fleeing. Siege turned into a bloody rescue.”

The “he” Tormund had been referring to was Davos, who Jon and Dany had learned was still in occasional correspondence with Tormund along with Sam. From their letters and what Tormund knew, they had also learned that most of the remaining noble Houses of the Seven Kingdoms were currently coming together at Oldtown to meet with the maesters at the Citadel to discuss what was to happen next. Cersei’s carnage, it seemed, had united them.

Dany breathed a sigh of relief to read in one of Davos’s letters that Grey Worm was alive and still had Dany’s former army on Dragonstone, though there was no word of them past that mention. 

“Are you going to write to your siblings too?” Dany asked Jon as he rolled up the letter.

He shook his head. “No. Sam will know what to do,” he replied, staring into the fire. Wistfulness hung on his face, but when he got up and came to slide into bed with Dany, it was no longer there. 

“Move over you big lummox,” Jon told Ghost, playfully shoving him. Ghost responded with a grunt, sliding off the bed and moving to settle on Dany’s side of the floor.

Jon settled next to Dany, draping his hand to replace where Ghost’s head had been and rubbing the swell between her hips in gentle circles. “Get some sleep,” he told her, “We’re leaving early tomorrow.”

“More walking,” Dany groaned, only half joking. Laying in a comfortable bed after four months of sleeping on cave floors had made her feel very sluggish and she resolved that, wherever they decided to settle, the first thing she wanted was a real bed to sleep on for the rest of her life.

“Aye,” Jon agreed with a yawn, “Only this time you’ll be walking free.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE PAT THAT WAS PROMISED!


	10. Home

Wings flapping to get enough height, the two ravens flew out of the rookery towards the South as Dany watched. She had offered the send off Jon’s letter with a raven while he got everything ready for their continued travels northward.

In a split second decision, Dany chose to send another raven bearing a letter of her own. She had agonized over what to write to Grey Worm, no idea how she could put every thought she had into words, but settled on two lines of Valyrian that enclosed her final act as a _khaleesi_ and as a Queen.

_Gaomagon daor jurnegon syt issa. Ao issi dāez._

Do not look for me. You are free.

She watched until the ravens became nothing more than black specks upon the still darkened sky before descending down the spiral stairs to meet a waiting Ghost in the maester’s chambers. Together, they headed into the yard where Jon, Tormund, and a smattering of free folk were waiting. This was to be one of the last bands leaving to go north. Only the most seriously injured still healing were to remain behind and Tormund had said he would return once more to lead the final group.

Once Dany had joined them at Jon’s side, there was a stirring activity as some gathered possessions, mothers corralled their children, and they all began ambling towards the opening beneath the Wall. Though it was just a matter of walking, suspense hung in the air around the group. Tormund took the lead as they walked along the dark tunnel to the light ahead, quiet.

Ghost was the first out, gamboling a few lengths ahead of Tormund and trotting into the coming dawn, his gait more relaxed and lively. The dawn was so bright upon the snow that Ghost’s white fur seemed to melt away. Tormund led the group out, each of them turning to shadow as they emerged into the light.

Shielding her eyes from the suddenly blinding dawn as she followed the group out, Daenerys Targaryen stepped beyond the Wall and Dany looked out upon the horizon before her. The sun breaking over the treetops enveloped her, kissing her hair and reflecting as if it were made of ice crystals. Even amongst the snowy, frozen landscape, Dany suddenly felt warm.

The quiet free folk transformed like Ghost as they walked on, becoming more spirited in step as they laughed and chattered. Children skipped around the adults, carefree and eager.

A younger woman walking next to Dany with dark hair and familiarly kind, golden eyes breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s good to be home,” she said to Dany.

“Yes,” Dany agreed, “It is.”

~

The group walked on for several days, the excited mood continuing on with them as they journeyed through the Haunted Forest. Their demeanour seemed to be infectious. Trees in the forest seemed to brighten, and none of the occasional weirwoods they passed by seemed to be weeping.

It was a bittersweet journey, however,  as more and more of their companions split off from the group each day towards their own destinations. Dany found her missing each one, the bonds she had forged with them similar to the camaraderie she and Jon had experienced with fellow travelers in the Vale. But, Jon told her, that was the free folk way. Some lived in villages with their clans, some were nomads, some lived with rules and leaders like Southerners, some were completely lawless and savage, and some even holed up in caves and came out once every full moon. They were just free.

She had never felt this way on travels before. Her time spent with Viserys moving around the various Free Cities to be hosted by people who inevitably grew tired of them was marked by pain and despair. They often resorted to begging, in the end having to sell their mother’s crown and with it, the rest of her brother’s humanity. Otherwise, for Dany, traveling always had a direct purpose whether or not it had a destination, and usually that purpose ended in bloodshed. It was wonderfully new to simply be walking.  

Deciding not to continue their nomadic lifestyle, though, Dany and Jon did have a destination in mind: they were planning to find a place to settle in the forest near where the Antler River met the Shivering Sea. Tormund had told them that there was a permanent village beginning up on the shores there, where some of peaceful free folk had decided to live together after losing most of their clans to the Army of the Dead. The way Tormund described it, the village sounded like the exact place Jon and Dany had been dreaming of reaching: a place for their family.

“I’m headed that way as well,” Willa said when Dany told her of the plan she and Jon had discussed. Though Dany had integrated well with all of the free folk, she had become the closest to Willa, the woman with golden eyes that she had spoken to when they first walked beyond the Wall.

“Are you going to live in the village?” Dany asked her.

Willa shrugged. “Maybe, if I’m needed. I like to be busy wherever I go.”

“I expect they’d need a healer,” Dany said. Willa, pacifistic to the core, rejected the free folk tradition of spearwivery in favor of “just patching them up so they can go punch something else” as she put it.

She shrugged again. Dany had quickly learned that Willa was not inclined to make conversation unless it was necessary, but the silence between the two women was never uncomfortable and they walked on together peacefully as Ghost trotted alongside, his fur brushing up against Dany’s leg.

Two mornings afterwards, they reached the Antler River and Jon and Dany parted with Willa, Tormund, and the other companions who had continued north this far.

“I’ll definitely be staying at least a little while,” Willa had told Dany, “Send word when you’ve found somewhere to settle. I’ll come.”

Dany nodded, smiling, but already missing her friend. “We’ll see each other soon,” she promised. Willa turned away and jogged to catch up with the small group headed towards the village. Turning the other way, she walked a short distance to Jon, who had is hand raised in goodbye to Tormund. The red-headed man was headed back to Castle Black for the remainder of the free folk with a promise like Willa’s to come back.

Jon turned to Dany and took her gloved hand in his. “Come on,” he said, “Let’s see where home is.”

~

Home, as it turned out, was a lean-to. At least for the night. Jon and Dany found a clearing in the forest just off the north bank of the river. It was mostly devoid of trees except for a few dotting here and there, but the surrounding forest kept it sheltered from biting winds. The sound of running water from the river was just audible, and she and Jon both quickly agreed that it was the perfect place to build a house - and a life.

In the meantime, however, they worked all day to construct the lean-to for shelter until the actual house had been built. Finishing in the gloaming before dark, the pair watched night set on their furs, the fire keeping them warm from just outside the shelter.

“And a bed,” Dany said, longingly thinking of her one night at Castle Black, “A _real_ bed!” They were discussing their priorities for the coming weeks and making a list for what they needed to trade for when Jon went into the village the next day, which Tormund had described as about an hour’s walk away.

Jon laughed at her enthusiasm. “I’ll see what I can do,” he told her, “But let’s get the house built first. _And_ let’s throw some more wood on this fire.”

He stood up - stooped because the lean-to was slightly too short for him to stand tall - and walked to the fire burning just outside their shelter. Dany followed, drifting over to Ghost laying at the far side of the fire. Two people plus a huge direwolf would have been a little cramped sleeping in the lean-to, but Ghost was quite happy keeping watch outside by the fire. She stroked his big head, looking up at the night sky in wonder at the faint colored lights that played over the stars. _Was there ever a more beautiful sight?_ A great sense of peace washed over Dany. She felt as though her destiny could very well be to simply to stand in this spot, one hand on Ghost and the other on -

As if fulfilling destiny, Jon’s hand slipped into hers and he placed his other over her stomach. Without looking, she could tell he was smiling.

Though Dany could have stood with her family and stared at the stars for as long as they allowed, she let herself be guided back to the lean-to. As she turned around to sit down, Jon’s figure before her was bathed in firelight and she glimpsed his eyes looking at her with yearning.

“You’re staring,” she said quietly.

“Aye,” Jon responded, “You’ve changed.”

Dany cocked her head and looked down at body, hands brushing over the swell in her stomach that had grown slightly larger, visible if someone meant to look as Jon was.

“No,” Jon said, moving closer to her and cupping her face gently in his hands, “ _You’ve_ changed. You’re...lighter.”

“I’m _home_ ,” Dany said, realizing the great sense she had felt was more than just peace. It was belonging. She reached up to kiss him and he met her delicately.

The kiss quickly deepened, Dany parting her lips in invitation to Jon. Accepting, his tongue peeked out to explore her mouth and his hands found the hem of her shirt to tug over her head.

Though the outside air was cold, the fire had made the lean-to a comfortable temperature amongst the furs and the chills that went up Dany’s spine as she and Jon shed their clothes were purely from anticipation.

Jon’s kisses moved to her neck and down the center of her chest. He placed a tender kiss on each breast, though did not linger, and continued to work his way down. Kneeling, he peppered kisses along her stomach, smiling into each one. With the last, right below her navel, he looked up at Dany, who had been raptly watching him descend. Her eyes felt heavy with euphoria and when she spoke, her voice was husky.

“Free folk don’t kneel,” she murmured, hands in threading through his hair.

“No,” Jon agreed, beginning to move his mouth lower, “But I do.”

He pressed a kiss right to her center and flicked his tongue out, sliding it in a broad stroke between her folds.

“ _Oh,_ ” Dany breathed, legs giving out as she fisted Jon’s hair more tightly. He caught her, gently laying her down onto the furs before continuing.

Dany’s legs splayed open, resting over Jon’s shoulders so he could be closer, and she whimpered as his tongue stroked up and down more earnestly. His hands slid underneath her buttocks, lifting them for more access as his tongue ran in longer lines, making Dany’s body quiver and eliciting soft moans from her.

One of her hands moved from his hair to grab at the furs as Dany felt herself begin to come undone under Jon’s careful attention.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, pulling his head closer to her, “Don’t -”

Her lips fell parted in silent ecstasy as Jon pushed his tongue inside her once. And again. And again. Dany’s back arched as her entire body shook with pleasure, so close to the edge. _So close_. Her hand left the furs to grip Jon’s head again, needing him.

“Let go, Dany,” Jon breathed into her. He laved his tongue flat over her once again and, trembling beneath him, she came over the edge.

Shaking, her body radiating heat and chills, she cried out as warm desire spilled from within her. Jon stayed, lapping it all up and he drew the last of her pleasure from her. Moving back up, he held her as she came down, whispering quietly into her ear, “I love you, I love you, my Dany.”

“Mmm,” Dany said sleepily, once she was able to use her voice again. She brought her hand up to brush his cheek with her fingers, eyes nearly shut.

“Rest now, my love,” she heard him whisper before sleep took ahold her, the first night at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we get our first introduction to Willa, who is an OC. I realized as I continued writing that Jon and Dany beyond the Wall needed a other characters to interact with and Willa kind of fell into that position and gave herself a role specifically in Dany's new life. We'll be seeing her often.
> 
> I'm writing the landscape beyond the Wall as if it's part of the taiga, rather than the arctic. Characters trudging through very tall, difficult-to-move-around snow drifts where food is basically non-existent is rough to write.


	11. White Shores

Work on their home began in earnest after Jon returned from trading in the village. He had and some of the other settled free folk agreed to share in the building of all of their houses, but they had decided to work on Jon’s first since Dany was pregnant. She was showing now, when not wearing her heavy sheepskin clothes overtop her shirt and trousers.

“When you do wear them,” Willa had said, “It just looks like you can’t handle the cold and had to put more layers on. But it’s okay, we all know you’re from the South.” 

While Jon worked on building, Dany often spent time with Willa either at home in the clearing or in the village. Sometimes they went on walks together in the surrounding woods, foraging for winter plants Willa used in her healing and collecting materials Dany needed for the house. 

In particular, quite set on having her real bed, Dany had worked on sewing the yards of cloth Jon had given her into a mattress which she had then stuffed with painstakingly chosen soft fir branches and layers of sheep’s wool. She had also given Jon instructions to try hunting fowl as often as possible, and plucked every feather from the birds to save with a near-maniacal grin on her face.

As soon as she heard of Dany’s plan for a feather bed, Willa pronounced her as delusional, but nonetheless began bringing Dany her own collections of feathers.

“It’ll be ready to put in the house today,” Dany proclaimed, tying off the last stitch on the mattress. It was unseasonably warm outside for the last few days, and she had taken off the sheepskin layer from her top as they outside sat at a crude table Jon had made for the time being.

“Does this mean I can stop plucking birds?” Willa asked, not looking up from the sun-dried plants she was peeling off the table.

Dany rolled her eyes. “If you must,” she said dramatically, “I’ll have enough feathers left to make the baby’s bed before it comes.” Willa grunted in acknowledgement, still peeling off leaves.

“Jon and I were talking about names last night,” Dany told her, smiling at the memory. They hadn’t gotten very far in the discussion aside from agreeing that they didn’t want the baby named after anybody specific, but Dany had relished in the moments they had spent laying together in their little house dreaming of their child.

Willa looked up from her work. “Why?”

“Four or so more months isn’t a very long time,” Dany replied, hands coming to rest on her stomach, which fluttered in anticipation. 

“No, why are you naming your baby? Free folk babies don’t get names until they’ve made two years. It’s bad luck.”

Dany furrowed her brow. “Then what are you supposed to call them until then?” she asked.

Willa shrugged. “Something else,” she said, “My tribe called me Little Bear. Said it was because I’m all brown.”

“And then when you turned two they just started calling you Willa?”

“There was kind of a ceremony. My parents presented me to a weirwood tree near our home and announced my true name to the Old Gods,” she explained, adding gravely, “Not all babies make it that far. Best to wait until you know they will.”

Dany nodded, but did not answer her friend. Though she tried not to dwell on him, her thoughts had turned to Rhaego with Willa’s story. The named baby who never breathed. Perhaps what Willa said was true. Perhaps choosing a name so early was bad luck. Despite the warm air, a chill had taken hold inside of Dany and she was still unable to shake it as she lay on the new mattress with Jon that night. 

They had barely spoken since he got home, so tired from building in the village all day that after moving the mattress inside he had fallen right to sleep. Closing her eyes, she tried to will herself to remember something else, anything else, but did not know if it worked before she fell asleep. 

Her dreams came in fitful flashes. A horse slain before her eyes. The lick of flames against her skin as a woman screamed. Shadowed dragon wings blocking out the sun. Icy water that churned with a coming storm. “ _ Dany… _ ” Pain low in her stomach as she collapsed in dust. Light glinting off a silver blade raised high to strike. “ _ Dany… _ ”  The wail of a child that she could not reach. 

“Dany...water…” Jon’s voice brought Dany out of sleep. The world shimmered before her eyes, swaying as if she were looking through warped glass, and she felt sweaty and weak.

“Water…” Jon murmured again, “Please, Dany. Water…”

She turned to Jon, who was in bed next to her with a hand barely stretched out. His face was white, though tinged with fever, and a sheen of sweat coated him. She felt the heat radiating from him, but her own hands felt like she had left them in the sea again. He seemed to move in and out of focus before her, and his voice sounded far away.

“Dany…” he said weakly, “W...water…”

As if groping through a fog, Dany stood up off the mattress to fetch water from the barrel they kept inside. She stumbled, the world spinning around her, but caught herself on the wall and pulled her body upright on shaking legs. 

“Water…”

_ Water _ , she repeated in her head. Shuffling her feet, she moved towards the barrel. It moved away from her. She stretched out her hand to catch it, but it moved even further out of reach. 

“No…” she told it, “Stay…”

The house seemed to stretch out in front of her, further and further, until she stumbled again and fell at the base of the barrel. 

“Water…” she murmured, trying to raise her arm. It felt as though someone had buried it under a mountain. 

“W...water…” 

The world closed in and she tried to gasp for air as the blackness suffocated her.

~

She was laying at the edge of a shore, feeling waves lap onto her toes as if they were pulling her towards the sea. The sun was warm and it felt as though butterflies were kissing her body. Dany could not think of a more perfect feeling.  _ I could lie here forever _ .

_ This isn’t home _ , a low voice in the back of her mind cautioned,  _ Where’s Jon? _ Then, after what seemed like an eon, Dany became aware that she was no longer pregnant. A chill came over her, driving out the warmth, and she realized that the little waves were silent.

Opening her eyes, Dany saw that the beach was bathed not in sun, but in white light so bright that only the shore and the line of clear water lapping at her were visible. It was nearly colorless. The light seemed to shimmer with little wings flapping through it, but as soon as she noticed that, the wings were disturbed and someone sat next to her: a brown-skinned woman in a white and blue dress. She was staring beyond, at what Dany imagined would be the rest of the sea if the light was not so bright. A soft smile played across the woman’s kind face.

“It isn’t time yet,” Missandei said to Dany, whose heart wrenched at the sound of her sweet voice.

“You’re here,” Dany told her.

“I didn’t want you to be alone.” 

Dany studied her, unable to reply but feeling as though she needed to commit every detail to memory even though she felt sure that they had forever to sit here together. A cold wind whispered at the back of Dany’s neck, rustling her hair as if to disagree with her surety. For a second, she thought she could hear someone far away calling her name. A man’s voice. Missandei smiled. 

“You’ll be okay,” her friend said, though her voice seemed more distant somehow, though they were still sitting together. It scared Dany and she desperately tried to will the wind to stop and give her more time to sit here. The far off man’s voice called her name again, stronger. She smelled forest and fire and cold earth even though there was no source for the scents to be coming from on the white shoreline. 

Shimmering light began to overtake Missandei, making it look as if she were glowing. Trying not to blink as the light got even brighter, Dany urgently searched for the words she wanted to say to her friend, now knowing that they did not have eternity to sit together. 

“Missandei,” she managed to say. For the first time, it seemed that Missandei was going to look at her. 

Then she heard the voice - Jon’s voice - calling out to her again, “Dany!” and, turning to the sound, she blinked. She was no longer in the bright light, but saw familiarly kind, golden eyes and the handle of a ladle. A cool hand held the back of her head, and water flowed from the ladle to Dany’s mouth.

“Missandei?” she breathed after drinking.

“Willa,” came the answer, “Don’t get up.”

Dany’s eyes and senses began to focus and she realized she was in her house, laying on the bed with Ghost at her side. She felt as though she had just been submerged in a hot bath: her clothes were sticking to her skin. Willa was knelt over her, now dabbing a damp cloth onto Dany’s forehead.

“Wh-where’s Jon?” Dany croaked.  _ Why had he been shouting? _ The very effort of speaking seemed to sap what little energy she felt.

“Outside,” she answered errantly, “I sent him out to get some air. He was restless.”

“And the -”

“Your baby is fine, Dany,” Willa told her, still dabbing the cloth at her forehead, “I’ve listened every day to make sure. Now quiet, you need to rest.”

Relief washed over her, though it only seemed to make her more tired. Dany fought to remain conscious, desperate to know more. “Wh -”

Willa stopped dabbing to regard Dany with a sharp look. “There’s been sickness all over. You and Jon had it. I came a week ago to check on you after the first case happened in the village and found you collapsed near the water barrel and Jon deliriously shouting your name. You nearly died,” she said harshly, though her voice cracked on the last word and she paused before adding, “Now hush. Rest.”

Weakly, Dany reached to thread her fingers through Ghost’s fur as Willa resumed dabbing her forehead. Her eyes closed and she slept blankly.

~

It was three more days before she was able to get out of bed. Determined for Dany to have cold, fresh air and to let the house air out the stale smell of sickness, Willa enlisted the help of a near-fully recovered Jon to help Dany up onto unsteady legs and lead her outside to sit by the table.

The air was cold, Dany could see her breath unfurl in wafts, but she noticed that there was less snow in the clearing.

“Now, just...don’t move for a few hours,” Willa said, backing away slowly and then turning to leave. Satisfied with Jon being well enough to care for both of them, Willa was returning to the village under a promise that she would be by to check on them tomorrow.

She left them in a frosty silence, Jon brooding as he and Dany watched Ghost dig holes in the snow looking for small rodents. They had barely spoken since Dany regained consciousness. Several times, she caught Jon looking at her as if she were going to fall to pieces.

Ghost’s rodent quest was successful and he bounded back over to the table, skinny mouse in his mouth, to proudly display his prize by dropping it in Dany’s lap and sitting back on his haunches.

“You enjoy it,” she told Ghost, pushing the dead mouse towards him, “I’m not that hungry.” The white wolf whined, but took the mouse and settled at Dany’s feet to have his snack.

“He loves you,” Jon said suddenly, “He pined - howled a lot - when he couldn’t be near you. When Willa kept him outside.”

Dany smiled, scratching the direwolf on his big head. “I love him too,” she replied.

Jon didn’t respond, but continued to brood. Watching him took Dany’s smile away.

“It’s not fair of you to be angry with me,” she told him, frustration bubbling inside her.

Jon’s brow furrowed and he turned to look at her. “Angry?” he asked her incredulously, “I’m not angry, Dany.”

“You’re doing a pretty good impression of it,” she fired back hotly. 

He gave one note of a mirthless laugh, fixing her with an intense gaze that nearly made Dany wince. “You wouldn’t wake up, Dany,” he told her, “I was calling you and calling you, and you never answered. I couldn’t even go to you. I thought you were dead. I thought… I thought my family was gone. I’m not angry, I just feel...useless.”

As he spoke, his eyes went red. He blinked as if to restore them back and in doing so, Dany watched as a tear slid down his cheek. Reaching up, she brushed it away and held her hand there. The feelings in her from seconds ago evaporated as quickly as they had come.

Dany smiled tenderly. “I heard you, Jon,” she told him, “I came back for you.”

Curiously, Jon regarded her as if trying to decide that what she said was either real or just to make him feel better. 

“When I wasn’t awake, I was somewhere else. It was perfect. I didn’t feel anything.” Straining, she tried to think of how to describe it, but could not seem to find a word. Her mind felt cloudy and distant when she tried to visualize the place, as if she was no longer allowed to see it. She could have sworn someone else had been there with her before she had woken up, but could only remember Willa’s face and the ladle at her lips.

“But it was wrong,” she finally continued, settling on simply not explaining, “I knew you weren’t there. And the baby was gone. I  _ wanted _ to feel something again. But I also wanted to stay so badly. And then...I heard you. You called out my name. And, when I blinked, I was back.”

Jon nodded, listening to her story finish. He had stopped brooding, his eyes seemed to process what he just heard. 

Without warning, he pulled Dany into a gentle embrace and she felt him relax as he breathed deeply. “You came back,” he murmured into her hair.

“I won’t leave again,” she promised, “I could never leave you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This chapter was a journey to write - I hope it delivered. I brought in some book descriptions, particularly to do with Missandei's eyes, so if you're thinking: "What? Nathalie Emmanuel's eyes aren't gold!" don't fret :)
> 
> The chapter title also has two references: one to the Undying Lands from Lord of the Rings, and one to the beaches of Naath.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.


	12. Stories and Shadows

“There I was, mindin’ my own business and catchin’ fish by the Antler Fork. Sun on my back, great clear day, when suddenly - _A SHADOW!”_ the old storyteller jumped forward dramatically at this, startling some of the young children straight off their perches of stumps and rocks. The older kids snickered and pointed and soon the little ones were giggling as well.

Dryn the Elder waited for the children to calm down before continuing. Hacking his throat clear, he started his story up again. “A shadow,” he said ominously, “bigger than any bull mammoth, blocked out the sun. The whole of the river went silent, like the ripples themselves were scared, and the shadow got even bigger, making the world night even though it was the middle of the day!”

“What was it?” a blond girl asked, her brown eyes round like medallions.

“Well that’s exactly what I thought! Grippin’ my fishing pole, waitin’ for it to come take me away, scared to look up. I heard its wings beat closer and closer and then -” Dryn paused dramatically at that moment and there was a collective intake of breath among the kids. The old man used the pause to look up at Dany and Willa sitting close by and wink, “The beast flew right over my head, so close its claws could’ve scraped off what little hair I have left.”

He bent down to point at his mostly bald head, much to the children’s laughter. “Then he flew away. Never even set down. I looked up as the shadow left and saw the tip of a black tail fly behind some of the tall trees. Then it was gone, and the river started to make sounds again. So if you’re ever out fishing in the woods and you hear the river go quiet, think about looking up. You may just see something...incredible.”

The children clapped for Dryn, who dipped his head in thanks. As he fended off their begging for “just one more story!” Dany heard Willa tutting beside her.

“You didn’t like the story?” Dany teased.

“The last thing I need is a bunch of children running around with bruised heads from looking up in the forest instead of forward,” she said brusquely, beginning to mash some of her plants into a pulp, “I already have enough to do with their parents getting splinters every other day and not telling me for a week.”

Dany laughed and watched the children, who had gotten up to follow a hobbling Dryn through the village, passing by the house Jon was working on, still begging for a story. Contentedly, she rested a hand across her stomach, feeling the little kicks from inside. _He’ll be watching our child one day,_ she thought fondly as he paused what he was doing to turn and watch the children chasing past.

“Come on,” Willa said, breaking her reverie, “Tell your man you’re leaving. We should get back to your home now so I can be here again before everyone sneaks off to nurse their splinters alone.”

They meandered along the snow-covered footpath together. Walking to and from the village nearly every day had cleared away the brush all the way up to Jon and Dany’s little house near the banks of the river. Inside the house, Dany sat on her bed (now with a frame courtesy of her and Jon’s combined handiwork) as Willa felt along her belly, which she did once every few days. Ghost sat directly behind the healer, his head cocked as if he was trying to learn what to do for Dany as well.

“You like listening to Old Dryn,” Willa said, more an observation than a question.

Dany looked at Ghost thoughtfully before replying, “His stories remind me of the Dothraki. When they gathered and and told legends about their horse god. They make me feel hopeful.”

“Stories about horse gods and monster shadows make you feel hopeful?”

“Stories in general make me feel hopeful,” Dany said, “When I was little, I liked to listen to the sailors in the Free Cities singing ballads about the sea and always asked my ward to tell me about Westeros and Old Valyria. Jon and I still tell each other stories at night if one of us wakes up with bad dreams. No matter what happens, there’s always stories.”

Willa grunted in response, moving to press her ear to Dany’s protruding stomach and listen to the baby inside her.

“Strong,” she said once she had finished. Dany smiled, hands caressing over where her baby was. Willa rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, happy baby,” she said, passing Dany her shirt before settling on the edge of Dany’s bed, suddenly serious. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, and this talk of stories reminded me…”

“Of what?”

“When you were sick - yeah, I know, I’ve been wanting to ask for a while - but, when you were sick, you cried out a lot while you were unconscious. It made Jon really upset, I didn’t understand why. You kept saying a name. _Miss-ann-dee?_ ”

Dany stiffened. _Jon didn’t mention that_ . Sudden memories flashed by of a sweet voice and brown skin that glowed in the light she could no longer visualize from that dreamlike experience she’d had. _There had been more_ , Dany realized. Though it felt like she was groping through a fog, she could remember someone telling her that it wasn’t time yet. That she would be okay. The yearning to stay next to her forever, to remember her whole and healthy, and the fear she would disappear into the light where Dany couldn’t follow. _But she belongs there now. She’s at peace._

“Sorry, I didn’t mean - ”

“Missandei,” Dany said quietly, “Her name was Missandei.”

“Was she a friend of yours?”

“Yes,” she paused before continuing, straining to remember more in vain, “She - she didn’t want me to be alone.”

They sat together for a moment, not speaking, before Willa stood up to leave.

“I’m glad she sent you back,” she said knowingly.

“I am too,” Dany replied.

Willa regarded her with familiar golden eyes before leaving. Pausing on her way out, she nodded to Ghost. “Look out for her, dog,” she told the direwolf.

She slipped out through the door, and Dany lay back on the bed, feeling strangely buoyant, as if she had been carrying her mattress through the Vale and was finally able to set it down. For a moment, Dany thought the light in the house seemed to shimmer and she heard the sound of butterfly wings.

Softly, she whispered to the wings, “Thank you.”

~

Dany dreamed that she was sitting amongst her _khalasar_ , listening to Rakharo telling the legend of the moon goddess’s marriage to the sun. It was day, and the sun seemed to beam with pride at the telling of his story. Then, the sun began to be eclipsed by a shadow, and when Dany looked up to see where he had gone, she saw gray sky and soft flurries of snow falling from the heavens.

She had left her _khalasar_ behind and was skimming across the tops of snow-covered fir and weirwood trees, flying and searching.

 _For what?_ Dany thought. The sights melted into nothing and she felt two hands softly rubbing against her stomach underneath her shirt. One hand pressed a little harder and was kicked in response. The hand recoiled slightly and Dany heard a soft chuckle from behind her.

“You’re going to be as strong as your mother is,” Jon was murmuring, resuming rubbing her belly, “And she’s the strongest person in the world. She’s walked across more land than anyone I know - a lot of it carrying you. All over Westeros and Essos, straight across the Great Grass Sea. Up and down all the mountains in the Vale. And she carried you through the whole North all the way past the Wall - that’s where we live now. Completely free. You’ll really like it, even if it’s cold, you’ve got it in your blood already.

“Your mother’s adjusted pretty well for a Southerner. I think she actually really likes it here even though she misses the warmth. She has the kindest heart. You’ll love her as much as I do. And we’ll love you so much, little one. We already do. Your mama, your papa, and everyone.”

“They’ll love you too,” Dany whispered, turning in Jon’s arms to face him.

Jon smiled, flushing. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said.

“It wasn’t you, I woke up on my own,” she told him, “I was dreaming about the legends the Dothraki told.”

“Did listening to Dryn remind you of that?” Jon asked.

“He reminded me of how much I love hearing tales like that. Stories that make pictures for you to see and make it feel like you’re a part of everything, like the ballads that sailors sing. I think I was even dreaming about Dryn’s story as well, like I was there even though it happened so long ago.”

Jon raised eyebrows. “Not so long ago,” he corrected, “Dryn thinks it happened two weeks ago. Came running into the village, swearing it happened: a huge shadow monster flying right over him. But he always tells tall tales...I expect it was just a bird flying too close to his head.”

“Really?”

“Nothing to worry about, Dany. It’s just a story.”

She nodded, but pondered the revelation. Dryn had seemed so sincere that it was hard to believe it he was that mistaken. _That’s what makes it a good story, though_ , she thought reasonably, _That you believe it even if it’s embellished_.  

“Jon...we’ll tell our baby stories, right? About...everything?” Dany thought about what she had shared with Willa. _I want them to know the people that came before. To know real stories as much as legends and embellished tales._

“Definitely,” he replied easily, “She’ll love listening to you as much as I do about Essos. And hearing from us about where her family came from and where she is now. It’s a part of her. And then she can have dreams about stories too.”

“She?”

“Or he,” Jon said sheepishly, “I’ve just been picturing a girl a lot. Wanting to meet her - or him. How am I supposed to wait three more months?”

Dany laughed, kissing him before responding with a teasingly parental tone as she turned over and pressed her back up against him, “Patiently! Like every other father has before you. In the meantime, I’m sure your daughter _or_ son would like to hear another bedtime story from their papa.” The kicking started up again, as if agreeing with her.

“As you wish,” Jon said, and he began to rub Dany’s stomach again while spinning a tale about two travelers who climbed through mountains on their journey home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a mixed chapter, some fluff and some closure and a few hints for later. Anyone want to guess if the baby's a boy or a girl?
> 
> And yes, The Princess Bride was referenced in the writing of this.


	13. Kissed by Ice

“And when they get older, we can play with them, right Dany?” 

Dany laughed. “Yes, of course!” 

It was midday and Dany was sitting surrounded by the village children, Ghost at her feet, a little ways away from the central fire pit. Having finished building the last house, the free folk villagers were celebrating with a gathering of all those who had worked together. They had named the village Shadowedge for its location outside the Haunted Forest, where the long tree shadows could not reach and sunlight shone down on clear days. 

The fifty or so people, from the wrinkled with age Dryn the Elder to the tiny three year-old Myl, who had been born South of the Wall, had become an eclectic clan. They were the few remnants of dozens of clans and tribes destroyed by the Night King, bound together by a will to take what had been lost and form it into something found.  _ Home _ , Dany thought,  _ These people are home _ . 

Cooked stag was being sliced and handed out to everyone; some of the villagers, including Jon, had been hunting for the celebration. Smelling it, Ghost had been licking his lips since the stag began roasting over the fire. 

A little hand reached out from the kids and pressed against Dany’s swollen stomach, now very visible even under the layers of clothing to protect from the cold. “ _ I _ won’t be smallest no more!” Myl announced imperiously to the other children.

“Any baby could outgrow  _ you _ ,” another child teased him. 

Myl looked down, flushing red and balling his miniature fists at the slight. 

“Nonsense,” Dany told them, touching Myl’s shoulder, “I’m sure that Myl will be much taller even before the baby is born.” The little boy puffed his chest out smugly at Dany’s words before turning to her again.

“Why can’t you come back here again before the baby’s born, Dany?” he asked her sadly.

There was a chorus of agreement from the children, who had grown very fond of Dany sitting with them for Dryn’s stories, telling them her own tales about far off places of sand and grass, and making them wooden toys to play with (now distinctly animal-like instead of potatoes, though a few of them had interesting facial expressions and leg positions).

“Because,” Jon said, coming over from carving the stags to sit next to Dany with a plate of food, “How would you like to walk all the way to and from our house carrying each other around your waists?”

“I would if it was Myl!” one of the girls said giggling. 

“I would even if it was Enda!” Myl said competitively, naming the biggest child: girl of ten with straw-colored hair. 

“You couldn’t carry Enda all the way to Dany’s house!” 

“Could so!” Myl argued.

“Go ahead then - show us!” Nerell, Enda’s younger brother, told Myl, playfully shoving him forward.

Jon shook his head, putting a hand on Myl’s shoulder to keep him from trying to pick up Enda. “Point is, it’s a long way to carry another person every day. Dany’ll be back soon enough,” he explained - Dany nodded along, though didn’t speak as her mouth was full of stag - “Now go get something to eat.”

The rag tag group of kids turned and ran towards the adults by the stag, shouting about who could have the legs and who could keep the antlers. 

“I will miss them,” Dany said wistfully after she and Jon had finished the plate of stag together. She leaned against him, watching as one of the boys tapped Myl on the back so he turned around and Nerell took the opportunity to take some of Myl’s stag. 

Jon chuckled as Myl got up to chase both boys around. “Aye,” he agreed, “Though one of them will wander over soon enough to visit and beg for stories and ask when the baby is coming for the millionth time.” At that, Dany chuckled as well. Somehow, Myl was the one being chased now.

“Come on,” Jon said, “We’d better start walking back while it’s still light.”

~

“That’s nice,” Dany murmured. She was laid on the bed, eyes closed, while Jon rubbed her feet. As much as she would miss spending time in the village, Dany would not miss making the walk.

“Did you have a good time today?” he asked her, pressing his thumbs into her arches. 

“Mm, yes, did you?”

“Dryn was going on about that shadow monster. Insisted he saw it while fishing again, flying over the river like last time. So that was entertaining.”

“He didn’t happen to look up, did he?” she asked teasingly. They both chuckled.

In comfortable silence, he continued to work on her feet and ankles and Dany let her thoughts range. She had gotten to know Dryn very well over the past months and while did indeed tell tall tales, it was unlike him to be so insistent around even the adults that it was so real. In fact, Dany could not remember him ever repeating a story without specific request. Her thoughts turned to more pressing issues, however, before she could dwell on Dryn for longer.

“Jon.”

“Hm?”

“That’s not my feet,” she breathed.

“I know,” he murmured, sliding his hands up over her already bare legs and pushing her shirt up. Dany relieved herself of it quickly, desire governing her actions. Jon followed along, kissing up the inside of her thigh. She bit her lip as he moved closer and closer, only to skate over her center to kiss her stomach.

“Mm,” Dany whined impatiently, hands coming to try and push him back down. 

“Be patient, my love,” Jon said, smiling against her as he kissed over the swell and back down again. He came up level with her and smiled again, twirling one hand through the silver hair splayed all around Dany. They locked gazes, and Dany bit her lip again, watching Jon’s eyes darken with hunger.

She moved closer and kissed him, draping one leg over him as she did. Her arms came around him, pulling them close together to encircle where she carried their child. Jon’s hands slid down her back, giving Dany tingles as they made delicate patterns against her skin. Heat pooled low inside her and she felt urgency take over. 

“Why are your clothes still on?” she breathed into their kiss, moving to pull his shirt over his head. 

Wordlessly, Jon rid himself of shirt and trousers before pulling Dany close again. She drew a sharp intake of breath, feeling him hard already. Placing one arm back around him, Dany moved them so that she straddled a laying Jon. 

Both gasped in this new position as Jon pressed up against Dany’s wet center deliriously. His hands came to rest at her hips and Dany felt his length twitch underneath her, nearly sending her anticipating body over the edge already. 

She raised up to grasp him before settling down over top, taking him inside her with a pleasurable shiver. Jon’s eyes closed and she heard a soft moan escape his mouth. Her walls fluttered excitedly around him and she began to move slowly, savoring every stroke in and out and in again. 

“Don’t stop, Dany,” Jon breathed, his hands gripping her hips more tightly, urging her to quicken her pace. 

She obliged, feeling herself get wetter as she glided along faster. One of Jon’s hands moved inward from her hips towards where they were joined. 

“ _ Oh _ ,” Dany cried as he slipped over her center, lightly caressing her clit in small circles so that she began to tremble as she moved. Her walls began to flex more, eliciting moans from Jon until she felt him shudder, hand stuttering over her clit, and spill himself into her, calling her name. 

Slowing, Dany went to dismount, allowing Jon to slip out of her. 

“Wait,” Jon said breathlessly, his hand starting back up over her core. Trembling again, Dany fell forward, unable to hold herself up as Jon’s ministrations continued. He caught her, laying her down so they faced each other and sliding one finger down from her clit and slipping it inside. 

His thumb continued the circles as he slid the finger in and out before adding another. Beckoning her from the inside, he coaxed whimpers from her and she held him close, hips rolling and begging for release. 

“Come for me, Dany,” he whispered, kissing her as he slipped a third finger inside. Dany felt herself collapse around him, shaking as she cried out in ecstasy and stars danced in her head. He kept going, bringing her down once and then up again, beckoning her forward to the second edge. He held her as she unraveled again, forgetting even her own name as she clung to the man she loved. 

Time seemed to slow as they lay there wrapped around each other. Jon lazily rubbed his hand along Dany’s belly, pausing every once in a while to feel the baby kicking. She smiled at each time his eyes widened with wonder.

“This will never not be amazing,” he said after what may have been eons or mere minutes, “Should’ve been born kissed by fire, I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

“Kissed by fire?” Dany asked, thinking sickeningly of Sandor Clegane, whom she did not consider lucky at all.

“It means red-haired. It’s rare among the free folk. They consider it lucky and the people born with are held as truly beautiful. But,” Jon told her, moving so that his lips brushed Dany’s with every word, “I think I prefer those kissed by ice.”

Illustrating his point, he threaded a hand through Dany’s silver hair and pulled her in for a searing kiss as they wound around each other and became one again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Father's Day to all the fathers out there, including our dear friend Jon Snow...according to this story.


	14. Restless

“It’s nothing to be worried - ow - about, Dany,” Jon insisted, flinching as she dabbed a cloth over his shredded side.

“It _looks_ as though you got attacked by a shadowcat,” she countered, dabbing perhaps a little more roughly than needed, “You shouldn’t have been up there today, Jon.”

Jon’s face scrunched up and he spoke through gritted teeth. “Just thorns. And it wasn’t bad, I just slipped. Although it is a rose bush. I fou-.”

“Glad you got a good look at it,” she cut him off, rolling her eyes.

In the past few months, Jon had been building a small barn in the clearing a little way from the house. Though they didn’t have any livestock yet, the two had decided to work towards trading for a couple of mountain sheep and goats after the baby was born. The animals were hardy enough to withstand the northern cold and Dany liked the idea of having fresh milk and cheese to add to their fairly sparse diet.

_Not that we’ll be able to do it if Jon offs himself,_ she thought harshly, though fear gripped her stomach at the thought.

So close to the end of her pregnancy, Dany had been unable to go anywhere much past the clearing where their house was. Jon had stayed as close to home as well, but also tried to stay busy. For him, that meant working on the barn nearly every day - _climbing up on the icy roof and risking his stupid neck._

Progress on the barn had been halted for today, however, after Jon lost his footing on ice. Fast as she could waddle, Dany had come out of the house, her face wrought with panic at the sound of him falling. She found him engulfed in the evergreen bushes that he had left at the barn’s side. Fortunately, they softened the fall. Unfortunately, they had not just been evergreen bushes, but evergreens and rose bushes mixed together. The result was cuts and scrapes and a few thorns embedded into him. Worst was the gash on his side that she was currently tending to. _Perhaps not as bad as a shadowcat, but it’s still pretty deep_ . _And what if the bushes hadn’t even been there?_

Dany tried to push down the anxiety of what may have been, but it spooked her all the same and she found herself feeling angry at Jon for it. _Why do you have to be reckless starting now? And why do you have to keep squirming when I try to clean this?_

“It’s clean,” she told him in a clipped tone, “Just let me grab a couple cloths to wrap it up.”

“Don’t see why you need to if it’s just covered by the shirt,” Jon said impatiently. Dany bit her tongue to hold back a reply as she turned around.

She waddled through the clean house to grab the cloths that she had stacked in a basket near the fire. They were by the foot of the bed yesterday, but she felt that a better place was by the fire. To Jon’s annoyance, this had been happening a lot in the last few days. Though they had very few possessions, all of them had been subjected to moving around the large single room. Every time Jon walked into the house, even if he had only been outside for an hour, the inside looked different.

“How can anyone tidy this much?” he had said grumpily the day before, though he shut up once Dany narrowed her eyes testily.

The inside of the house felt different as well. Tension seemed to crackle in the air and she and Jon had not been able to go an hour without snapping at each other over something: Jon on the roof, Dany moving their things, “it’s too hot,” “it’s too cold,” “why can’t you sit still?,” “why can’t _you_ sit still?”

Dany was eternally restless. She felt as if she couldn’t sit still (Jon was right about that, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it), but couldn’t walk well either. The poor turn the weather had taken made it all the worse. Suddenly, the consistent melt of snow each day had turned to a deep freeze that made going outside like walking on glass. It either broke or resulted in whizzing across the clearing trying to balance, which was quite difficult if you were heavily pregnant and needed to relieve yourself. Therefore, she was virtually confined indoors. She had spent the long hours pacing and rearranging, looking outside the window at yet another snowfall, or laying down feeling tired but strangely energized and staring at the roof.

Willa, on her visit the day before, told her it was completely normal to feel this way. “Like a mother bird making a nest for when she lays her eggs,” she had explained, “Everything has to be perfect and you’re anxious to get to the laying part.”

_I don’t feel perfect_ , Dany thought, walking back over to where Jon sat. Her back was killing her and her feet and ankles felt swollen and stretched. The baby kicked often and she had been finding it more discomforting and less miraculous than before. She was moving so awkwardly that she felt like a foal before it realized how its legs worked. _Helpless and frustrated._

Though pregnant once before, Dany could barely remember if this had been a part of it towards the end, when her world fell apart in blood and despair. She prayed daily to any gods listening that it was different this time, but when her thoughts strayed from how awful she felt, they turned to the dark half-memories of Rhaego’s birth. Held at bay for so long, the thoughts of her son that never lived had begun to seep into her nightmares where a faceless, nameless child screamed sickeningly in the darkness but Dany could not go to him.

The lower part of her stomach panged. _Stop it_ , she snapped in her thoughts. She had begun having irregular contractions a few days before, but Willa was certain Dany wasn’t going into labor just yet. Still, Dany found these contractions agitating and uncomfortable. Trying to breathe deeply through her nose and out through her mouth like she had been shown, Dany placed one cloth on Jon and went to wrap the other strip around him.

He flinched, squirming, and the cloth dropped away.

“Ow, Dany!” Jon chastised, glaring at her.

“ _Sepār umbagon nyke_ _ē_ _drosa!_ ” she yelled, feeling tears prick at her eyes as a torrent of anger overtook her and she felt her temper go beyond her control. Her stomach was still clenching, she felt awkward enough as it was, and Jon wouldn’t let her just. put. this. wrapping. on. _How hard is this to do?_

“Dany - ” he started.

“No, Jon! Just leave me alone! Fall off a thousand roofs for all I care!” she shouted, chucking the cloths onto the bed and waddling off, grabbing her sheepskin coat and pulling her over her head as she wrenched the door open and slammed it on the way out.

Fuming, and deliberately stamping to crunch her slow way across the snowy in the clearing, Dany found herself headed to the lean-to. They had left it up and cleared of snow for some extra shelter. Jon skinned the animals he caught out here and it was where Ghost could be found if he wasn’t next to one of them or exploring the woods.

The white direwolf lifted his head as Dany approached and gave a low whine as she sank down ungracefully next to him and buried her face in his flank, allowing the tears that had been threatening inside to finally spill over. She fisted his fur in her hand as her body became wracked with violent sobs from anger and fear.

_I can’t do this_ , she panicked, _I can’t do this._ _How am I supposed to do this?_ Despair gripped at her from inside and she could not shake the dark feeling that she was headed down the exact same path as last time.

Her breathing came in short gasps and she felt Ghost move his massive front to nose Dany worriedly and whine. Slowly, she sat up to look at him, still breathing heavily with silent tears running down her red face. “Am I being ridiculous?” she asked him through gasps. The direwolf laid his head on her lap in comfort, licking her hand. It was soothing to sit there and feel Ghost’s rhythmic licks. Dany could feel her heart begin to slow, and the fear that had overtaken her moments ago seemed to dissipate. _It’s not the same as last time_ , she told herself firmly, _you’re not alone_. Even if she was still angry with Jon, Ghost was here. 

The direwolf nudged Dany again, putting his nose to her swollen belly. In what Dany would swear was a reaction, the baby kicked directly at him and Ghost recoiled, startled with his ear pricked forward.

Dany sniveled a short laugh through her remaining tears as Ghost moved back in for a closer look. His ear swiveled as the baby continued to kick and he cocked his head back and forth listening.

“Is there a baby in there?” she asked, scratching the direwolf’s big white head.

So focused on Ghost, Dany didn’t notice Jon until he was stooped at the entrance of the lean-to. She stopped scratching the direwolf, regarding Jon and his solemn expression with a fixed glare. Very aware of her red face and glassy eyes, she tried to look as pissed off as possible at him.

“Dany,” he said, apology etched across his face, “Can I sit down?”

Dany felt herself involuntarily soften at his words. “You may,” she replied, her voice noticeably hoarse.

Sitting in silence, both watched as Ghost continued to stare enamored at Dany’s stomach until Jon spoke.

“I’m sorry, Dany. I didn’t mean to make you upset. I won’t go up on the roof again until the ice is cleared,” he told her solemnly.

“Jon, it’s - ”

“No, I mean it. I wasn’t thinking about you. I was being selfish trying to get the barn done. I was a big - ”

Dany held her hand up to his mouth to stop him. “It’s not the working on the barn,” she told him, “I know you want to get that done. It’s just…” She trailed off, feeling the tears sting her eyes again and trying to find the words. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to do _this_ ,” she said, gesturing to her stomach, “And I’m... _scared_. Last time, I lost everything. My whole life fell apart around me. And this time...Jon, I don’t know what I would do! I know it’s ridiculous to think that the same thing would happen again. But...when you fell off the roof today, when I heard you, I was so scared. I can’t lose anyone else. Especially not you. I can’t, Jon, I - ”

Cut off, Jon pulled Dany into a strong hug. She melted into him as his embrace only tightened and one hand came to stroke her hair, wet with melted snow.

“You won’t, Dany,” he whispered, “You won’t be alone. I won’t leave you. I promise.”

Dany closed her eyes, breathing deeply and letting his scent and words wreath around her in comfort. Once, when she was in Vaes Dothrak, the scents of the Western Market gave her memory pangs of a home she couldn’t picture. Now, however, she was certain that home smelled like Jon. And she could picture it. Dany’s stomach clenched unpleasantly again, but it was bearable. _It’s okay, little one_ , she soothed, _we’re going to be okay_.

Lips pressed to Dany’s hair and she heard Jon give a contented sigh before the pressure left her head and he moved to look at her. “I have something for you,” he said.

Cocking one eyebrow, Dany looked at him expectantly. From behind him, Jon produced a rose. Not red or white, but the palest blue like the morning frost upon the trees. It looked so delicate, Dany half-thought it may simply shatter from contact with the air.

“It’s a winter rose, like the ones in the Winterfell glass gardens,” Jon said, gently handing Dany the rose, “Before, I was trying to tell you that I found some in the barn bushes - they’re quite rare.”

Gingerly, Dany stroked one of the petals and a small smile glimpsed across her face.

“It’s beautiful,” she said as she looked back up at him, “Thank you. And...I’m sorry too. For snapping at you about the wrapping. I’m just _really_ uncomfortable right now.”

“I understand,” Jon said, taking her hand, “But that’s why I wanted you to have the rose. On that bush, most of them are just bulbs right now. It made me think of you, you know, getting ready to bloom. You’re creating something beautiful and preparing to bring it into the world. It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.” He smiled, bringing their hands to her stomach where the baby still kicked.

Dany returned the smile with her own, stroking her thumb over Jon’s hand. “I can’t wait to meet them,” she said quietly.

Nodding, Jon replied, “Nor can I.”

Shifting positions, Dany nestled herself between Jon’s legs and his arms encircled her and came around her stomach. She placed her hands over his and they sat in the lean-to, feeling their child move and watching the snow fall into the clearing, simply enjoying being together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never really written true angst before so I hope this worked - tried to capture the feelings on days when you and your SO just get on each other's nerves. Also a little dog - er - direwolf love. I have two dogs and always like writing little dog details whenever the opportunity presents itself.
> 
> Anyways...baby?


	15. Jelmāzmo

Enjoyably watching the snowfall from the lean-to turned into taking cover in the house as the temperature plummeted and the wind picked up. Night set on a bitter world of ice and frozen rain and Dany and Jon brought Ghost into the house. 

Even with the big direwolf sleeping by her side, Dany’s dreams were fraught with anxiety. She dreamed that she walked into Willa’s house in Shadowedge, only to see that the entire Great Council from the Citadel at Oldtown had come up to meet there. Sansa was particularly loathe at the sight of her.

“You come in here and you didn’t even bring any Mereenese chairs? How could you have forgotten that you were supposed to bring chairs?” the redheaded woman demanded.

Dany tried to splutter that Sansa was ridiculous for assuming that. And that she had only come to Willa’s house to ask what trees goats liked to eat. Then, the scene melted away.

Dany was flying over a forest towards a sea of ice. Lowering, she nearly skimmed the tops of the trees. Right in front of her, a little clearing with a plume of smoke just visible in the midst of the blizzard caught her eye. She slowed, smelling faint fire and earthy scents under a mountain of snow. Then she flapped higher, and continued towards the sea. She was hungry. Her stomach ached. It hurt a lot actually…

“Ah, ah,” Dany cried, shooting up in bed. She held her swollen belly, which felt hard to the touch, trying to breathe slowly in...and back out. The wave of pain began ebbing away and she kept taking organized breaths until it abated. 

Outside, the wind was howling through the trees as if trying to whistle but only pushing the air harder and harder. Dany looked around the dim house, wondering if it was nighttime or dawn. The fire had gotten very low and smoldered faintly. Her gaze came to rest on Ghost, who was sitting up, wide awake, and eyeing her curiously. His single ear was back a little and Dany briefly wondered if he felt worried about the storm.

Offering him her hand, Dany whispered to the direwolf softly. “Hey, boy. Come here,” she beckoned. He reached forward and licked her hand once before getting up to put his head in her lap and whining quietly. Gently, he sniffed at her, nose coming to rest on her stomach. His ear swiveled forward intently and he whined as Dany felt the pain starting again and her stomach tightened once more. 

“Ah,” she hissed again as the pain worsened, similar to what woke her up, but different to what she had been feeling over the past few days.

_ Is this it? Is it happening? _ “Jon,” she whispered bracingly after it had eased off again, poking at the sleeping Northman next to her, “Jon, wake up.”

“Hmm - wha - whassrong?” Jon slurred, blinking his eyes open. They stayed glazed with sleep and he yawned enormously as he tried to focus.

“I think it’s the baby,” she told him.

At this, Jon became fully alert, virtually springing out of the bed. “What? Our baby? Is it coming now? Right now? Are you okay? What do you need?” 

Jon asked these questions at a speed that matched the wind howling outside and it took Dany a moment to process all he had said as she watched him frantically turning in each direction. He stopped, though, when she didn’t answer immediately, his face panicked. 

“I - I don’t know,” she said, her tone unsure, “I got woken up. It just hurt...different than before.”  _ Maybe I’m just overreacting from the dreams. _

Her body answered her doubts, however, as another contraction started in her back and rippled through. She winced, clutching her stomach and Jon hurried forward to crouch next to her, his hand beginning to rub gentle circles on her back.

“Easy, Dany,  _ easy _ ,” he said in a low voice, “Just breathe.”

The wind screamed again outside as they breathed together. Trees shuddered and Dany heard the snap of branches being ripped from their trunks. Jon stopped rubbing circles as the contraction ceased. “I need to go get Willa,” he murmured, as if the idea wouldn’t sound so bad when said quietly. 

“What? No!” Dany exclaimed, looking at him horror-struck.

“Dany, we can’t expect her to go through that storm alone. We need her here.  _ You _ need her here. I  _ have _ to go get her!”

“You promised you wouldn’t leave me!” she insisted, “ _ I _ need  _ you _ here! More than anyone else!”

He started to pull on his outer clothes, face set with determination.

“Jon Snow,” she said savagely, “if you leave me here alone and go into that storm I swear to every god that watches this world I will - ” She broke off abruptly as another contraction came, this one more painful than before. Instinctively, Jon stopped what he was doing to come back to her side, his hand returning to her back again. 

“Please,” she said fearfully between breaths, “Please don’t leave. I need you. Here.”

The sight of another contraction seemed to work in her favor and Jon nodded. “Okay,” he agreed, “I’m sorry. I won’t leave.”

~

“Tell me another one,” Dany said. She and Jon were slowly pacing the house for the fourth time that hour. A thin sheen of sweat coated Dany’s body. Her contractions growing closer together and more painful. Jon had begun trying hide hisses of pain from each time she gripped his wrist with a surprising amount of strength for such a small person. She had shed her trousers, finding them uncomfortable, and was wearing just her shirt, which had started to cling with the light sweat on her body.

“Okay,” he started, thinking for a second, “Once, there was a crannogman from The Neck that attended a tourney. Though grown, he was small in stature and became the target of three squire bullies who served knights in the tourney. He lost his weapon against them, and was facing certain defeat, but then a she-wolf came and saved him. She brought him back to her den, cleaning his wounds and introducing him to the rest of her pack: the wild wolf, the quiet wolf, and the pup. At the feast that evening, the crannogman and the she-wolf recognized the bullies and who they served. One served the pitchfork knight, one the porcupine knight, and one the knight of two towers. But, even though he was encouraged by the pack, the crannogman was torn about avenging himself by besting the squires’ knights. He hadn’t the skill, and did not want to bring any more shame unto his people and himself.”

He broke off as Dany’s grasp closed tightly around his wrist again while she sucked in a sharp breath and held her other hand to her belly. 

“They’re getting worse,” she said through clenched teeth, her eyes scrunched up. It had been three hours since she had woken up from the first contraction.

Jon stroked her hair with the hand that wasn’t being crushed. “I know. Just breathe, Dany, you’re doing really well. Do you want to sit back down?”

She nodded, relaxing her grip on him slightly, and he guided her back to the bed, helping her to sit comfortably with her back against the wall and her pillow supporting her. 

“Where was I?” Jon asked himself, preparing to continue his story as he started rubbing Dany’s belly, “Oh, yes. During the next two days, the bully squires’ knights each won in jousting. But then, a mystery knight came along on the second afternoon. He was short, with mismatched and ill-fitting pieces of armor and a shield emblazoned with a weirwood tree that had a laughing face. The knight defeated all three of the other knights, winning their horses and armor. When the defeated knights asked for their property back, the mystery knight asked in a booming voice that they teach their rude squires honor as ransom. Immediately, the defeated knights chastised their squires sharply.

“Other people wanted to unmask the mystery knight, and were determined to beat him in the tourney. But the next day, he had disappeared. Though many men were sent to search for him, he was never seen again. All that was found of him was his shield, abandoned in a tree.”

Another contraction had come during the end of Jon’s story, and Dany cried out from its intensity. Her body broke out in a sweat that left her feeling cold and there was a loud cracking noise outside. 

_ Crash! _ It sounded as though a great tree had been ripped straight out of the ground by the wind fallen right into the clearing. 

_ What if one falls on the house? _ Dany thought briefly through the pain as one contraction ebbed away and another started almost immediately. 

“You’re doing - ” but before Jon could finish his statement, a great gust blew past and threw their door open, nearly blowing it into the house. Snow began to drift in and they could see how dark it was outside even though it had to be daytime by now. Jon quickly hopped off the bed and, with great effort, pulled the door shut again before hastening back to Dany, still in the midst of her contraction. A trickle of water ran down her legs.

“It’s okay, Dany,” he said, stroking her hair again, “You’re doing really, really well, my love. Just breathe...in....and out.” Her hairline had become wet with sweat, her face agonized.

“It - hurts - Jon,” she told him desperately, “It - hurts.” 

“I know, Dany, I know,” he soothed, now tracing her face as she fractionally relaxed and was given a slight reprieve from the contractions, “But you’re doing it, Dany. You’re really doing it! You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

She barely managed a smile at the compliment before the next contraction came and she cried out.  _ They’re getting even worse,  _ she panicked,  _ How can I do this? _ Jon stiffened at her cry, hand stuttering over her face, and Dany felt her gut wrench somewhere deep behind the pain, realizing how hard this must be for him to watch and wait out, unable to do anything but let it happen.

The door was flung open again, but before Jon could get up someone else heaved it closed. 

“It’s. R-r-really. Cold,” Willa stated once she turned around. Her clothes seemed to be frozen stiff on her body and her face had minuscule icicles decorating her nose and eyelashes.

Jon looked at the healer open-mouthed, while Dany managed a few words through her grimace. “Nice...of you...to show up,” she breathed before another contraction had her cry out again.

“Nearly got blown to Thenn,” she replied idly, shedding her outer layer and gloves. Surprisingly, none of her clothes crunched with ice.

Rubbing her hands together for warmth, she wasted no time getting straight to work, sitting near Dany’s legs and taking a look. 

“Seems I’ve gotten here on time to do some work, though. Good timing on your part - just don’t break your man’s hand, all right? I prefer having only one patient to deal with at a time.” She patted Dany’s leg encouragingly as another contraction came on.

Jon began stroking her hair again with the hand Dany wasn’t ferociously gripping. As the contraction subsided, he leaned down next to her. “Are you ready?” he asked softly. 

_ No _ . She was terrified. But she nodded, knowing she had no choice, and weakly turned to Jon to find some vestige of strength in his grey eyes. He smiled at her and kissed her hairline. 

“Okay,” Willa said, “When I tell you to push, you’ll do it through your contraction. Then you can rest. Then it will start up again, okay?”

Dany nodded again and she felt Jon’s hand squeeze around hers in encouragement. “You can do this, my Dany. I know you can,” he murmured, bent close to her ear. 

Her contraction came and distantly, she heard Willa tell her to start pushing.

With all the energy Dany had, she did as she was told. The pain was unimaginable. It dropped the world out of focus and she could feel tears spring from nowhere and run down her face as she cried out, gripping Jon’s hand with as much force as she was pushing.

Far away, Willa told her to relax and Dany obeyed, chest heaving with the effort she had just put forth. She had to do this again? She felt like she barely had time to think before Willa was telling her to push again.

And again.

And again.

They continued to go through the same motions more times - Dany lost count - each time worse than the last. The house shook with an enormous gust of wind and she heard another tree fall as she was trying to relax again. She was too tired to wonder if the house would get crushed anymore.

Jon continued stroking her hair as Dany felt another contraction come on and heard Willa’s direction once more. Her cries mixed with the howling wind from outside and she felt a burning sensation, vaguely noticing that Jon, though still clutching her hand, briefly left her side and Willa had told her to stop pushing. 

“Wow,” she heard him breathe in disbelief. He moved back up to her side as Dany tried to work past the burning. 

“W-what?” she panted, waiting for Willa’s direction again.

“The baby’s head,” Jon replied proudly, “You’re nearly there, Dany. You’re nearly there. I love you so much.”

“Okay, Dany, you can do this,” Willa said as Dany felt another contraction coming. “Come on,” she encouraged, “You can do this - push now.”

Summoning all her strength again, Dany pushed through the terrible burning. Distantly, she heard Willa tell her to stop as the burning began searing and felt Jon brush her sweaty hair more saying, “Nearly there.”

“That’s it, Dany, push again,” Willa said evenly, “You’re so close!”

Dany listened to her, crying out with the effort and managing to drown out the wind. Her ears rang and she felt tears streaming down her face and then… 

The pressure changed and she heard a baby cry. Willa made a strangled sort of laugh and Dany watched as her baby was lifted away from her legs. Instinctively, her arms stretched out and Willa placed the baby on her chest. 

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” Dany crooned softly to the crying child in her arms, pain forgotten for a moment, “Mama’s here.”

She looked up to Jon to see that he had tears rolling down his cheeks as he stared, awestruck, at what he was witnessing. 

“Our daughter,” he choked out as if he could not believe his own words. 

“Our daughter,” she repeated, looking down at the perfect life on her chest and marveling how she had not always been there.

_ Welcome home, little one _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is called "Jelmāzmo" which means "Stormborn" in High Valyrian. I did...more research than I care to admit writing this to try and make it at least mildly authentic from Dany's perspective, and it was one of my favorite chapters to work with both for the characters and also it was fun to write. 
> 
> The Knight of the Laughing Tree is a real story from ASOIAF (I don't remember if it's in the show which is why I mention that) and I just really felt it was the perfect story to go in this chapter as sort of a parallel to the potential beginnings of Jon's conception and now to him having a child (it's also just a great little story). If anyone wants, feel free to ask me to elaborate more on that as this was one of my more intentional inserts.
> 
> Anyways, long author note, but I hope you enjoyed!


	16. New Life

_ Did we really make her? _

Dany smiled, holding her nursing baby to her breast and closing her eyes as she listened to the little sucking sounds her daughter made. 

She was exhausted, sore, unkempt, and so unbelievably happy. At one week old, Rose was perfect. Virtually her entire tiny life had been spent sleeping, crying, and suckling from her mother ten or so times a day, but Dany was unable to remember ever loving anything or anyone more.  _ You’re so loved, Rose, _ she found herself thinking several times a day,  _ you’re so loved _ .

Following with the free folk tradition of waiting to name babies, they had decided to call her Rose for the time being, after the winter rose Jon had given Dany right before their daughter was born. Her eyes were nearly precisely that same shade of blue and she had a small patch of light hair on her little head already. She also had ten perfect toes, ten perfect fingers, and a contented expression on her face whenever she slept that Dany loved. 

“Was that good?” Dany cooed to her sleepy baby once she had finished and burped. Rose blinked her big eyes slowly and nestled closer to her mother, settling down for what Dany was sure would be a nice sleep. She leaned down to place a chaste kiss on her daughter’s forehead.

The door to the house opened with some difficulty and Jon shuffled in, face red from the biting cold. The storm that Rose was born in had caused several trees to fall into the clearing and several more obstructions throughout the forest. Every day, Dany thanked any god she could think of that their home and barn were completely spared. Even more so, she and Jon were still reeling with amazement at Willa showing up in the storm.

“How  _ did _ you get here?” Jon had asked the healer hours after Rose’s birth. Dany was barely awake, nursing her daughter, and Willa and Jon were sharing food at the foot of the bed. The storm still raged outside, battering against the house.

“A lot of holding on to trees, praying I picked strong branches, and patience in the wind gusts. It’s honestly not the first time I’ve walked through a storm - though I hope it’s the last for a while,” the healer replied, “I woke up and just felt like I needed to leave and get here. Something told me that I just had to go right then. Good thing that footpath is worn in - I was walking blind for most of the trip.”

Jon shook his head in disbelief. “You’re absolutely insane. But I’m really glad you made it through,” he told her.

“Aye, also not the first time that’s been said,” Willa replied, “And I have no doubt you could have delivered your daughter. But it works a lot better with two hands.”

Dany still felt badly about that. Purple and blue bruises covered Jon’s stiff hand and wrist that had taken hours of punishment from Dany during her contractions. Willa said it would just take time to heal, and Jon tried to make her feel better every time he caught her wincing at the sight of it.

“It’s all right, Dany,” was his continuous refrain, “If anything, I’m just extremely impressed with how strong your grip is!

Even with only one fully functioning hand, Jon had been working to cut the trees away from the clearing, stacking up the wood by the barn to use later, but the process was difficult with snow higher than Dany piled up. The few times she had been outside were both terrible and awe-inspiring. Though she knew the north would have horrible storms, seeing the snow piled above her head was quite a humbling experience.  _ I suppose it could be worse _ , Dany thought,  _ we could have to live like Valemen in impassable mountains plus snow forever _ . At least where they lived on the banks of the Antler was fairly flat.

Jon shed his outer layers onto the floor before pausing, as had become his routine, to gaze at Dany and Rose on the bed. Dany had not thought it was possible for someone to be continually amazed by the same sight, but Jon proved her wrong. The generally stoic Northman had taken to fatherhood like a bird takes to air and today was no different: his eyes brimmed with pure love as he looked from mother to daughter. 

“My girls,” he murmured as he walked over and kissed Dany. The kiss was intense, leaving Dany’s heart stuttering, as if Jon was trying to put every emotion he was feeling into it at once.

“She just finished feeding,” Dany told him quietly. He smiled, bringing one hand gently over his daughter’s tiny head as if trying to touch a snowflake without it melting. A week had gone by, but Dany was pretty sure Jon was still fearful of breaking Rose. Every time he held the baby, she could tell it was equally the most incredible and terrifying thing he had ever done. His grey eyes would widen and fill with wonder, and sometimes she caught him gaping like he was witnessing a natural phenomenon whenever Rose moved.

After a moment more of simply watching Rose sleep, Jon turned back to Dany. “Are you hungry?” he asked, bringing his hand from Rose’s head to stroke over Dany’s cheek.

“Mhmm,” Dany answered sleepily, melting into his touch, “But I don’t want to put her down just yet.”

Jon chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring you something to eat and then we can trade.”

Minutes later, Dany traded her baby to Jon for a warm bowl of stew that he had put on the fire earlier that day. Rose stirred when she was shifted to Jon’s arms (the familiar look of wonderment briefly crossed his face) but did not wake and after a delicate whiskery kiss to the top of her head, Jon gently laid her into her cradle. 

Not old enough yet for a feather bed like her parents’ (though rest assured, Dany had already been maniacally plucking birds and started making a mattress), Rose slept on a sturdier surface in the cradle Jon had built for her.

“Sometimes I still look at her and remember all over again that we have a daughter,” Jon said in awe as he settled at Dany’s feet with his own bowl of stew, “It seems like we were just in that cave yesterday with you getting ill everywhere, spilling a bottle of dye, and then telling me you were pregnant.”

“I appreciate that the first thing you remember is that I was vomiting everywhere,” she replied between spoonfuls of stew, smirking. 

“It was a defining part of our journey for about two months, of course I remember it,” Jon defended, though he was smiling too.

Dany said nothing, though regarded him with narrow eyes as she took her last few spoonfuls of stew. A wave of exhaustion flooded over her nearly as soon as she set the bowl down, and she sleepily closed her eyes halfway while still mildly focused on Jon eating his meal. 

“Tired?” he asked as he finished his bowl and set it down with hers. 

“Mm,” was the only reply she could muster, though she tried to keep her eyes open. With Jon outside so much clearing up, they had not spent much time with just the two of them together. But even with how much she wanted to, Dany could not foresee staying awake for him much longer.

He moved up to sit on his side of the bed and she shifted to cuddle up to him, head in his lap. He ran his fingers through her unkempt hair - Dany had not had much energy to tame it - and spoke softly to her. “Just rest,” he said, “I’ll comb your hair for you if you want.”

She nodded, barely noticing when he got up to grab the comb and then settled back down, bringing her head into his lap again. Vaguely aware of the soothing sensations that had begun on her scalp, Dany let herself drift off into sleep.

~

Flying over the edge of the sea, frozen with dark iceberg peaks, Dany heard the distant rumble of the ice shifting in the water. She was looking for something. Something that had been calling to her, so low it was barely a disturbance through the air. It was close. She knew she could find it if it kept calling. The sound was compelling, as compelling as when she first flew north. But where was it?

_ What was it? _ Dany thought as her mind pulled her from sleep. She blinked her eyes open to dim light, trying to hold onto the quickly fading dream. More and more, she had become aware that she was continually dreaming of flying through the north. It happened when Rose was born, and nearly every night since then: so often that flying had begun to feel wonderfully familiar again.  _ Just like with Drogon _ . 

An ache settled in her heart as she thought about the dragon she had not seen for over a year. Had she been dreaming through his eyes like some sort of dragon greenseer? Was he possibly in the north as well? Hope fluttered in her chest. She remembered dreaming of dragons as a child, though at that time she had never seen one before. Her dreams had always been of her looking up and seeing vividly colored dragons soaring over the Free Cities. Always, she woke up feeling wonderful after those dreams. Though it was a short-lived wonder when Viserys would yell at her not to make up lies whenever she shared what had happened with him. But this was different. It wasn’t a lie or the thoughts of a little girl seeing dragons for the first time. It was as if she  _ was _ the dragon. 

_ Or am I just sleep-deprived and letting my imagination get the best of me? _ Dany thought, the little buoyancy of hope deflating. She couldn’t deny that she missed her child terribly, especially in the wake of Rose’s birth. But in the whole time she and Jon traveled, and even now in the north, it seemed as if Drogon had simply vanished after Dany left him on Dragonstone with the rest of her heritage. No news of him had ever reached her. Unless these dreams were, in fact, true?

Shrugging off the thoughts, Dany vaguely remembered this being the third time she had woken during the night. The last time, she blearily could picture Rose being placed on her breast to nurse, but knew she had fallen asleep almost as soon as the baby’s mouth had latched onto her nipple. She wondered if the same thing had happened the time before as well. Jon tried to wake up and help with night feedings so that Dany could sleep through some of them, but it tended to depend on who heard Rose first.  _ I don’t think I heard anything tonight _ , Dany thought, still feeling partially in a fog as she stretched her arms above her head.

“And when you’re a little older, we’ll be able to visit the barn together and tend to the livestock. By that time we’ll have sheep and goats. And enough wool and feathers for two pillows each!” Dany heard Jon murmuring, standing a little ways away from Rose’s cradle. 

“Your mama loves her pillow. We have almost enough feathers for a second one now - you’re not old enough for one yet, but you’ll have one later. And I’m going to make sure you have your own room. You’ll probably share it when you have a brother or sister down the line,” he leaned down towards his chest and Dany realized that he was holding the baby, “I know you’re only a week old but I already know I want siblings for you as long as your mama does.”

“Give me a chance to rest a while longer before we try for another one,” Dany said quietly, getting up from bed to go over to Jon.  

He smiled as she wrapped her arms around him, peeking the sleeping baby nestled against his chest. 

“We didn’t mean to wake you,” Jon said apologetically, “She was a little fussy after she finished nursing.”

“She doesn’t seem to be fussy now,” Dany observed.

In the dim light, she could see Jon’s face turn sheepish. “I wasn’t ready to put her back down, yet,” he admitted, “I’ve...kind of been doing this most nights. Helping you with nursing and then holding her...for practice.”

“Seems to be working,” she told him before yawning. She scratched her head, fingers slipping through her hair more easily than before. It was less knotty than when she went to sleep, loosely braided though perhaps a little lopsided. “So does your braiding practice,” she added.

“That I haven’t gotten down yet. You have a lot of hair.”

“We can work on it another time,” she said. Gently, she stroked Rose’s right foot, which was sticking out from between Jon’s arms. It flexed, her little toes spreading apart.

The baby shifted in Jon’s arms, grabbing some of his shirt in her tiny fist. 

“Is it weird that I didn’t expect her to be so small?” Dany asked.

Jon shook his head. “No. I thought the same. But then again, you’re quite small,” he said, leaning to kiss her head.

“What do you think she’ll look like?” he asked, his tone very eager. Dany thought that he must have had the question on his mind for a while as he continued, “Do you think she’ll keep the blue eyes and the light hair? Or darken? I wonder if she’ll look more like you or me. Or a combination of us.”

“I’m not sure. I think she’ll darken, though. At least her hair. Look a little more Northern like her papa. And Willa said most babies’ eyes don’t stay blue forever, though hers are very pretty right now.” 

“Whatever she looks like, she’s perfect,” Jon said, looking down at the sleeping Rose, studying her baby features before moving to place her back in the cradle. 

He turned back afterwards, placing a hand around Dany’s waist. “Let’s get back to bed. Rest for a little longer before the sky lightens,” he said, guiding her.

In bed, they cuddled together with Dany’s head on Jon’s chest and his arms wrapped around her, one hand drawing little patterns over her skin. Dany’s eyes began to close again and she felt sleep creeping up on her. 

Crying pushed back at the wave of sleep and Dany opened one eye to make sure she wasn’t dreaming first. 

“My turn,” she told Jon, kissing him before sliding out of bed to lull their daughter back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a lovely response to the last chapter, I'm so glad you all liked it! 
> 
> So now Dany is finally starting to put the possible Drogon pieces together - took her long enough, but she had a lot on her mind. 
> 
> We're about to take two slightly larger time jumps and potentially begin to wrap up the first section of this story. I'm now considering a "Three (or more) Sections in One Fic" setup where each chunk has a little prologue and title. So this part would become "Book 1: Shadows" and the next would be "Book 2: Frost" (which is a working title), etc. If anyone has any thoughts on this idea, let me know!


	17. The Nomad

“That has got to be the most patient dog I’ve ever seen.”

Willa watched as Rose, on a woven mat on the floor, reached for Ghost’s fluffy tail and managed to grab hold of it before he gently moved it away. Immediately, tiny grabby hands went after the tail again. They had been playing this game for an hour, allowing Dany take time to pluck the two grouse Jon had caught in the traps he had laid. 

“I’m pretty sure Ghost thinks the baby is his most of the time,” Dany replied, chuckling, “He barely leaves her side.”

In the four months since Rose was born, Ghost, like everyone else, had hardly taken his eyes off of her. He had moved from sleeping by Dany during his nights inside to sleeping directly next to the cradle. Whenever Rose cried or became fussy in her cradle during the day, it was a race across the room to see if her parents would get there before her direwolf. At night it was virtually no contest, Ghost just popped up from sleeping to check on her.

“I feel like someone’s trying to replace me as a father,” Jon had mockingly complained as he laid Rose down to nurse from Dany one night. He had tripped over Ghost when trying to reach the baby. 

Truthfully, however, it was a huge relief. Dany did not feel so nervous about turning her back on Rose for a minute with a huge direwolf keeping an eye on her for most of the day. She also appreciated her friend coming out most days to check on them for a few hours, making sure Rose was doing well and that Dany was able to have time to not have one eye on her baby. 

“How has she been sleeping?” Willa asked as Ghost moved his tail a little further away. Rose tried to reach again, rocking on her stomach and kicking a little with her legs.

Dany pulled out more feathers on the grouse before replying. “She’s started to sleep through some nights, though when she does wake up it’s quite loud, but overall she’s been doing well.”

“And Jon?”

“Sleeping?” 

Willa narrowed her eyes and smirked before Dany caught on. “Willa!”

“Okay, okay,” Willa laughed, holding her hands up in truce, “That part I was asking as your friend. You know it’s okay to start - ”

She cut off as Dany silenced her with a glare, plucking out the last grouse feathers with extra ferocity. Truthfully, she missed intimacy with Jon very badly, but it was hard to get back to that when her mind was always honed in on the baby on the other side of the room. Recently moving Rose’s cradle further from their bedside had been a mild attempt at changing that, but Dany felt as though she and Jon were back where they started when they had left Dragonstone: unspokenly wanting each other and settling for short kisses.

“Dany!” a voice called from outside. 

Willa shook her head. “It’s as if we called right into his ear!” she said in mock exclamation. Dany rolled her eyes, getting up and picking Rose up off the floor and away from her favorite toy to go outside and greet Jon.

With Ghost and Willa behind her, Dany began to head out the door but stopped in her tracks. Next to Jon stood a great red-bearded man with twinkling blue eyes.

“Tormund!” Dany breathed, hurrying out with Rose on her hip.

“I heard there was a new mouth to feed in Shadowedge,” he greeted her, smiling broadly as he leaned down to close to Rose to greet her. Fascinated by Tormund, Rose reached out and grasped a fistful of red beard to shake, babbling happily. 

All of the adults laughed at this and, once Tormund was released from the baby’s clutches, Jon led them all back inside.

They caught up over a meal together, discussing how Shadowedge was doing and how they had adjusted to being parents before the conversation turned to the free folk.

“How is it in the rest of the north?” Dany asked Tormund after returning from nursing Rose some time later. She passed Jon the baby, who sat her upright on his knee as she reached out for a fork that he automatically moved further on the table.

Tormund leaned back in his chair, patting his now full stomach thoughtfully. “Strange,” he answered, his face growing uncharacteristically dark, “I’ve been all over. After I lead the last of our people through the Wall I traveled to see where everyone had settled and how they were doing. Don’t have a clan of my own anymore, ya know? 

“But it’s different than before. Used to be that we were a sparse people, but it’s a big land. Now it’s an empty land. Went days and days without seeing anyone, not even a trace. Found some villages like the one here though, once in a while. People wanting to be more peaceful - friendlier - just survive. It’s like our way of life is changing.”

“The Dead left deep wounds,” Willa agreed. Her face looked somber and troubled.  _ She’s the last of her tribe _ , Dany reminded herself. She sometimes forgot that Willa had not always lived in Shadowedge and that her intention originally was not to stay for long. Similarly, she forgot that Shadowedge had not always been home to the villagers Dany thought of as her clan and community; the villagers had been for numerous clans and tribes, all with their own histories and cultures that were now all but gone. It had been less than two years since the free folk had slept with one eye open, terrified of what lurked in their homelands. Even when she had left Dragonstone as everything fell to pieces around her, Dany still had Jon. She always had Jon. So many free folk had only stories and memories.  _ Who wouldn’t want to live peacefully, after all that we’ve been through? _

Tormund nodded at Willa’s statement. “Those that aren’t in villages, well, some of them still move around. Some alone, some not. Not really any nomad clans left and it’s a hard life - starting to die off. Though, there’s been talk around these parts of nomads from the ice-rivers attacking some of the smaller villages for food. Though I haven’t seen anything myself.”

“Will you be staying here long, then?” Jon asked.

Shrugging, the red man replied, “Long as I want. I’ll stay in Shadowedge for a few months at least, give you some help with building your new room, but I don’t think it’s time to settle down just yet. May go visit the other villages once or twice more. Keep Mance’s work going.”

Both Jon and Willa nodded knowingly, but Dany regarded Tormund curiously. Before she could ask anything, however, the conversation shifted.

“Now,” Tormund said face brightening again as he looked down at Rose, “I’d really like to know why nobody told me there was a baby crow on the way the last time I saw you both!”

~

It was warm enough the next day to take Rose outside. Jon had gone hunting for the day with Tormund and Ghost, so Dany ended up on a walk with Willa through the forest, Rose in a sling on her chest. 

They were supposed to looking for bearberry plants and conifer needles, though Dany barely had a clue what a bearberry looked like in comparison to any other berry, especially since everything was still mostly buried under the snow.

The question about “Mance’s work” still burned in her mind from the evening before. She had felt clueless not completely knowing what Tormund had meant, but was struggling to bring it up to Willa with any dignity.

“I forgot to ask Tormund for clarification last night,” Dany finally began, preparing herself to sound like an idiot as she used a knife to cut some conifer branches that looked fresh. 

“About what?” Willa prompted, not looking up from peering into a rabbit hole.

“What did he mean by ‘Mance’s work?’” she asked.

Her friend looked up and wrinkled her nose before huffing out a disbelieving laugh.  _ I must sound like an idiot _ , Dany thought, her cheeks burning as she paused from cutting the conifers. 

Shaking her head as she peered into the hole once more, Willa answered, “Sometimes I forget that you haven’t always been part of the free folk.”

“Did he mean Mance Rayder?”

Willa nodded, lifting back up and closing her eyes as if to picture the face in her mind. “The King-Beyond-The-Wall,” she said, almost reverently, “Though he didn’t wear a crown or ask people to kneel like Southerners do. He united us - most of us. Clans that had warred for a thousand years came together under him. We knew he spoke the truth: if we didn’t unite, we’d die. Come back all blue-eyed and undead. My tribe joined with him. Our camp stretched all the way to the horizon, clans coming together from everywhere.” 

Her words reminded Dany of the Dothraki prophecy of the Stallion Who Mounts the World - one person uniting a people together in a single  _ khalasar _ . 

“He died, didn’t he? Stannis Baratheon tried to burn him alive and then - ” Jon had talked about the King-Beyond-The-Wall before, about the time he had spent with the man who led the free folk. She knew how his story ended: the same way the Stallion’s story ended. 

Willa nodded. “Tormund said that Jon killed him with mercy,” she finished for Dany, “Many of us that escaped that bloodbath ended up at Hardhome. And, well, you know what happened from there, I’m guessing, given who you sleep next to every night.” Dany shuddered. 

“So, Tormund meant that he was still trying to unite the free folk?” 

“No,” she said, “Not like that. But we were better after Mance. We fought less, had something to live for besides fighting. There are so few of us left now, we need to remember how to work together, not just how to kill each other. Someone needs to keep reminding people of that.”

Willa left the rabbit hole, continuing past Dany to survey other potential warrens that may lead to bearberry bushes or plant roots. Finishing up cutting off the branches, Dany turned and followed her friend.

“Oh my!” Willa suddenly exclaimed, only a few feet ahead of her. In front of her, as if he had melted out of the tree shadows, stood a man that Dany had never seen before. Even at Winterfell and Castle Black, Dany could not remember seeing anyone like this amongst the free folk.

He was the definition of “wildling.” His clothes were made of what looked to be once-slick, mottled animal skin. Bone adorned his head and neck, it looked to be mostly walrus tusks, but the effect was still chilling. This, coupled with his menacing black eyes and leering face, had Willa skirting back next to Dany, who gripped the knife in her hand harder.

Tormund’s words echoed in her mind:  _ “There’s been talk around these parts of nomads from the ice-rivers attacking some of the smaller villages for food.” _ Was this man one of those? 

He looked gaunt, almost sick, with his skin stretched over his cheek bones in a hollow sort of way. Dark circles, almost like bruises, sat under his eyes and though he looked intimidating, Dany also found him very decrepit. He looked like the rickety houses of Sisterton, where one well-placed blow could break them apart. Again, she heard Tormund from the night before,  _ “It’s a hard life - starting to die off.” _

“Who are you?” she asked loudly, one hand protectively over Rose while the other held the knife at her side. 

He spoke in a hard language that Dany did not understand, fixing her with a manic look upon his face, licking his lips as he shakily pointed his chipped spear threateningly towards them. 

Breaking from her thoughts, she heard Willa respond to him, her voice harsh in the same hard language. Obviously she recognized what had been said. Whatever she replied seemed to anger the man more, and he shouted, leaning into a lower stance and brandishing his spear. Was he planning on killing them? 

_ I’m going to have to kill him _ , Dany realized. Her daughter was being threatened. Her friend was being threatened. There wasn’t a choice to do nothing. Instinctively, she felt her torso turn with Rose away from the man. 

Then, there was a whistle of metal through the air followed by a dull thud, and the man’s eyes widened. He made a choking noise as blood beginning to run from his mouth, and he dropped to the ground at their feet. The snow around him began turning red. An ax was sticking out of his back. 

“Dany!” Jon shouted, he and Tormund running up with Ghost to where the women still stood in shock. Each man had a few rabbits over their shoulders.

“Ice-river,” Tormund spat as they approached, wrenching his ax out of the man’s back with a crunching, squelching sound that made bile rise in Dany’s throat. She twisted her body away, wanting to shield Rose from the sight even though the baby had somehow slept through the ordeal.

“What in the Seven Hells? Are you all okay?” Jon asked alarmingly as he came up to Dany’s side and checking on both mother and daughter. 

Brittly, Willa replied, “He just appeared. I turned back from talking to Dany and there he was with a spear.”

“What was he saying?”

“Said the gods had finally blessed him with food. I told him to keep looking,” she said, her eyes cold. Though always prickly, Dany had never seen her look truly angry before. 

“I hate those flesh-eating cunts,” Tormund grumbled, cleaning his ax, “After all we survived, you’d think they’d have the decency to try real food and not sneak up and eat their fucking neighbors. I’ll take the body and burn it away from here.” 

Willa nodded in agreement. “I can help,” she said, “We might as well head back to the village after.”

“Willa...” Dany started, though she trailed off.  _ What do you say when you just survived someone threatening to eat you? _

The healer’s face incrementally softened and she placed her hand on Dany’s shoulder with a small smile before turning away. Dany and Jon watched as Tormund heaved the man’s lifeless body up over his shoulder and he and Willa set off.

Once they had disappeared, Jon turned to Dany, frowning. “Let’s get back,” he said, taking her hand. They walked along through the darkening forest, silent all the way into the clearing and the house.

Inside, Dany settled down to have Rose nurse for the evening. She knew that she should be feeling something more than oddly calm.  _ If anything, I just feel bad for him. What a horrible way to die. _

Jon sat, brooding as he watched Dany and his daughter. “Do you want to stay here?” he asked after a long silence.

“What?” the question surprised her, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Dany, a man found you in the forest and threatened to eat you and Rose!  _ Eat _ you. You’re not disturbed by that?” Jon exclaimed incredulously. 

“I am,” she said quickly, “I am. But, that doesn’t mean I want to leave. When we were standing there today...I had a knife in my hand. I was ready to kill him, to protect Rose. Tormund got there first, but I knew that if I killed him, that was what I had to do and then that would’ve been the end of it. And somehow it made me...calmer?”

Jon raised his eyebrows and Dany, for the second time that day, thought she sounded like an idiot.

“I knew that if I killed him, he would die and it would just be something that happened. There would be no repercussions or his vengeful aunt or mother or brother or whatever wanting to kill all of us for it. And other people getting in on it with their own opinions of what I should or shouldn’t have done.” 

“You’re saying you’re happy with stray cannibals running around?”

“I’m saying,” she drew out the word and she shifted Rose, “I would much rather be at home with the threat of stray cannibals or freezing your limbs off than down south with the lying, and the titles, and the hating people because you have to, and the scheming, and the backstabbing. I  _ like _ not having to think through choices like this all the time. I like not having to make choices like this all the time. This is the first time something like this has happened the whole time we’ve lived here. It’s nice - not the cannibal part - but I’m actually happy to raise our daughter in here. I don’t feel judged or stressed or like I have a constant target on my back. Nobody is trying to pit us against each other. They’re just trying to live.”

“I guess I have to agree with you,” Jon replied, “Although I’m still disturbed about the cannibal part.”

“Let’s not focus on the cannibal part,” Dany told him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went through about 12 re-writes and I'm still not a huge fan of it, but it was needed in some capacity. So I'm really sorry if you were left thinking, "What the heck did I just read?" 
> 
> Cannibal free folk are a thing, though I'm not sure if the ice-river clans are so I just took some mild fanfic liberties with that bit. I also apologize if there are any horrible typos in this, I was watching the US vs. Sweden Women's World Cup game while revising and was mildly distracted and shouting at it the whole time.


	18. Her Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: Just so we're clear, baby's across the house now, not at the foot of the bed.

It was later, after lying awake for a while, that Dany sought Jon out in bed. She didn’t know if her need had been brought on by the conversation she’d had with Willa or not, but a strong yearning had taken over her mind. 

“Can’t sleep either?” he asked as she shifted over to pull herself onto him. She didn’t answer, choosing instead to show him by capturing his mouth with hers. The kiss became rougher as Dany quickly deepened it, suddenly more desperate for him than she had expected. His smell, his taste, the feeling of his body on hers.  _ It’s been too long _ . 

Without thinking, Jon responded, wrapping his arms around her so that they were melded to each other, separated only by the thin layer of fabric between them.  _ Too much separation. _ Jon’s heart was thudding, matching the rhythm Dany’s had taken on: quick and anticipatory. She swiped her tongue across his lips, pleading.

“Dany,” Jon panted, breaking their kiss. He looked unsure, nervous even.

“I need you, Jon,” Dany whispered, tugging at his shirt, “Please. I  _ need _ you.” She moved back in to kiss him again, rolling her hips to make her point clearer if it wasn’t already.

Jon sighed into the kiss, all restraint failing, as his hands automatically moving under her shirt to caress the skin of her back. He raised a trail of goosebumps as he went, making Dany arch into him, her hips even more insistent than before. 

Raising up, Dany made quick work of ridding herself of a shirt, but before she could descend to plunder Jon’s mouth more, he had flipped them over. 

He took off his own shirt before coming down to begin kissing Dany again. She pulled him closer to her, relishing that there were no more barriers between them and wanting no space between their bodies. Jon’s tongue swiped across her lips, begging for entry and she granted it immediately, visiting the mouth with her tongue as well. Her hands traveled down his body to thumb at his trousers. Jon smiled into the kiss.

“In a hurry?” he teased, leaving her lips to lick a trail down from her jaw. 

“ _ Yes _ ,” she breathed, back rising as Jon laved his tongue down her chest, pausing to give gentle care to her breasts. He licked around each nipple in turn, placing light kisses over them before continuing down, nipping a trail along her body that he soothed as he went. Dany’s nails scraped up his back, head going fuzzy with the sensations he was causing, making Jon’s breath turn to shudders as he continued his descent lower, lower.  _ Lower _ .

At her waist, Jon kissed along the line between skin and trousers, making Dany squirm entreatingly underneath him, wanton in needing more. He obliged, relieving her, and then himself, of the last bits of clothing keeping them apart.

He paused, gazing at her, his eyes dark with lust.

His face was so close that Dany felt Jon’s breath on her core, already throbbing with desire. It felt as if her heart had dropped to beat there instead. Hands threading into his hair again, Dany tugged lightly on his head, begging. 

He obeyed. 

“ _ Oh, _ ” she whimpered, so quietly that Jon nearly missed it as his tongue pressed deliriously through her folds. Her legs fell apart, shaking as he became greedy, unable to get enough of tasting her. She felt the warmth begin to pool as he continued. His tongue drew lines up and down her center, making Dany tremble as the sensations she had missed for so long took hold of her. Jon paused over her sensitive clit, drawing delicate circles with his tongue which had Dany biting her lips so as not to cry out, before he slipped downwards again and immediately plunged into her now wet heat. 

She gasped, pulling roughly at his curls as she held him to her and felt his tongue slide in and out, tempting Dany’s walls to quiver with pleasure as Jon worshipped her.

Contentedly, he hummed against her, but before she could become more undone, Jon had pulled away and came up to meet her in a kiss that tasted like both of them. Dany pulled him flush to her again, pressing herself against him in a way that had them both moaning into each others’ mouths.

Her heart seemed to stutter as Jon nestled between her legs, his length hard against her. Dany reached to grab at his buttocks, desperate for him to be inside, but unable to find the words to ask. 

Just as she found her voice, she no longer needed it. 

“ _ Yes, _ ” she found herself saying again Jon buried himself deep within her. Dany’s eyes opened, locking gazes with him as they joined. She saw nothing but Jon. Her Jon. 

She felt herself flex around him, willing him to move but wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever. “Gods, Dany,” he murmured, hand coming up to brush back the hair from her face and cup her head. 

It tangled in her long, silver hair and he kissed her again, even more insistent than before, as he started to move deliriously in and out. She found herself exploring him, hands trying to take all of him in at once. 

Then Jon shifted, changing angles, as he set a faster pace that began to coax whimpers from Dany as she found her mind going fuzzy, unable to think much past the delicious sensations that he was causing. 

“More,” she commanded, gripping his ass again to make his strokes harder, quicker,  _ deeper _ . Dany arched her back as he filled her entirely, her nails now digging into him and eliciting a shudder into her neck from Jon. 

Responding in kind, Jon moved his mouth to her pulse point, driving Dany towards incoherence as he alternated between sucking and soothing it with flicks of his tongue. He quickened their tempo again and until Dany was left writhing underneath him, careening towards the edge of bliss. 

“ _ More _ ,” she whispered.

Jon traveled back up her jaw. “More?” he breathed into her ear, nibbling lightly on the lobe as he thrust harder. Obliging, he brought his hand from her hair to slip in between them. 

“ _ Oh _ ,” Dany cried as his finger circled her clit, “So close, Jon.” Arms tightening around him, Dany went rigid as Jon moved to kiss her again. She felt herself tighten around him and Jon’s hand still in her hair clench as he thrust into her once more. 

They came together, their rapturous cries silenced by their kiss as they clung to each other, Jon spilling himself completely as Dany trembled around him.

Boneless, completely spent, they lay wrapped in each other, their chests heaving together as they came down, still taking pleasure in each other’s mouths. Jon took her lower lip gently between his teeth as he slipped out of her and rolled off to the side, making Dany shiver with the sensation.

For a moment, she lay and revelled in the feelings that had become familiar once again. Faint reminders of Jon nipping down her body flared pleasantly and her neck felt well-marked. Her scalp still prickled from where his hand had been. She found herself smiling, completely satiated and feeling even more desperately in love with him than usual.

“I missed you,” Dany whispered, turning on her side and bringing a hand up to Jon’s face, tracing from cheek to his swollen lips - she knew he had made similar work of hers, the tingles of their kisses still lingering. 

Jon’s laugh rumbled low in his chest, his eyes alight even in the dark house. “Really? I couldn’t tell,” he teased, petting Dany’s nose and returning her smile.

At that, Dany laughed too. “Maybe I was a little overt,” she admitted.

“No,” Jon murmured, placing a kiss onto her nose, “I missed you too. I just didn’t know how to say it...didn’t know if it would be different now.” He resumed stroking her nose, gazing into her eyes as if he was still trying to drink more of her up.

“Nor did I,” she admitted, “But I think we did all right.”

“More than all right,” he responded, grinning and shifting positions for her, “C’mere.”

Dany cuddled closer into Jon’s chest, pulling the furs over them. The hand at her back began tracing her spine, lulling her heavy eyelids to close as she listened to Jon’s breathing returning to normal. 

“Sleep now, my Dany,” she heard him say as she the last of her effort to stay awake left her and she drifted off to peaceful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Dany's words, "It's been too long."
> 
> Bigger time jump between chapters and then it's looking like we'll slow down a little. I'm going to be updating Chapter 1: Dying Light with a Forward in the next couple of days, but I'll let you know when that happens.


	19. Trading News

“Ba!” Rose shouted, reaching out to grab at Dany’s hair when her mother bent forward to fix the baby’s clothes before they headed out to the village. 

“Yes,” Dany cooed, lightly tickling Rose, whose laugh already could rival Tormund’s. Dany’s smile broadened at Rose’s giggles and she was caught with a now very familiar feeling of joy.

At seven months old, Rose filled her parents’ lives with excitement and wonder every day. She was tiny, silly, and currently incredibly interested in her toes - a fairly recent discovery. As Dany had guessed, Rose’s features had begun to take on a mostly Northern look. Her patch of light hair had become a mop of dusty brown waves and she had most of Jon’s coloring, but her eyes had turned violet like her mother’s.

Own features aside, Rose was still completely fascinated by other people’s hair and enjoyed getting her hands on as much of it as possible. Dany had forgotten to tie hers back this morning, and was relieved when the baby turned to play with her other favorite thing: Ghost’s tail, which was a perfect combination of hair and movement.

The direwolf was lying across the bed, Rose sitting against him. Dany laughed when he noticed the baby hands coming for his tail and closed his eyes, sighing as a little hand sunk into his fur. Lazily, he wagged the tip of his tail, much to his charge’s delight. 

“Ba! Bababa!” she shouted again. Though she babbled a lot, this was Rose’s new favorite phrase. Dany was pretty sure it meant “direwolf,” “mama,” “papa,” “feed me,” and several other definitions. 

“ _ Ivestragī īlva jikagon, ñuha Rosie _ ,” Dany said, picking the baby up, “Let’s leave Ghost’s tail alone for now.” Ghost huffed another sigh appreciatively, flopping onto his side and stretching out while Dany fitted herself and Rose into her sling and pulling Rose’s hood over her head and little ears. 

Though the weather had continually warmed since Rose was born, the snow melting and not gaining much more height past occasional flurries, Dany insisted on Rose keeping a hood on, much to the baby’s chagrin.

“Oh, good, you’re finally outside,” Tormund greeted them, sliding from the roof as Dany closed the door behind Ghost, “Your man here said I couldn’t cut though your wall until you left!” Tormund waved to the baby, who was peeking out from the sling, smiling at the red man.

“That’s because nobody wants you marching into their home unannounced and swinging an ax,” Jon replied, coming from around the house. 

He and Tormund were near to completing their work on what was to become Rose’s room. They had waited as long as possible to cut out part of the back of the house to make an entrance to the new room, but today was the day and soon it would be ready for Rose.

“Will it be done by this afternoon?” Dany asked them, absently taking Jon’s hand as he stopped by her side. He stroked a thumb over her knuckles.

“Should be if you ever let me get in the house!” Tormund teased gruffly, wielding his ax with the manic glint that Dany was sure was similar to what came to her eyes when she plucked feathers for beds and pillows.

She laughed as he waggled his eyebrows eagerly. “Okay, then. Don’t get carried away - I’d like to come back and still have a house with all its walls intact,” she told Jon, reaching up to kiss him. He held onto her for a lingering moment, perhaps remembering the particularly lovely evening they had spent with each other last night, until Tormund cleared his throat. 

They broke apart, Dany feeling blush creep into her cheeks at Tormund’s knowing look, and Jon bent down to kiss the top of Rose’s head. 

“See you later,” he said.

As she headed down the worn footpath with Ghost at her heels, Dany heard Tormund’s booming laugh. 

“I see why she hasn’t frozen up here yet!” he shouted gleefully.

~

Late morning in the village was surprisingly peaceful given the pleasant day. The bitter cold and biting winds had given way to a much more average kind of frozen instead. Though some, like Tormund, insisted this was warm weather, the South in Dany thought of it as merely “less frigid.” 

Here and there, as she walked to Willa’s house right near the village’s center, villagers outside were going about their daily business: tanning hides, sharpening axes, or darning clothes. A few traded with travelers that were passing through on their way to far off places. Shadowedge had begun to have a reputation amongst the free folk as a good stop for nomads and travelers in need of supplies or human contact.

Ghost bounded ahead of her now, excitedly sniffing the air for a hint of cooking meat at someone’s hearth. Though the direwolf regularly hunted for himself, he was also quite content with shoving his large head through someone’s low window and begging for something even tastier than raw meat (“Quite content with getting fat,” as Jon put it). 

Making it into the village center, Dany could hardly believe that she was going to make it all the way to Willa’s house without - 

“Dany’s here!”

_ Of course they’re all  _ at  _ Willa’s house today _ . 

Several pairs of children’s feet scrambled to crunch across the snow straight past Ghost so that Dany found herself suddenly surrounded by most of the village children and Willa behind them, nearly doubled over in silent laughter. Even Rose, who had fallen asleep on the walk, peeked her head up to see what all the noise was about.

“Dany!” “ _ Dany! _ ”

“You brought Rose!”

“And Ghost!”

“Can we play with her now?”

“Did she talk yet? Or walk? Or anything?”

“Dany?” Myl’s little hand tugged on her and Dany looked down at his inquiring face, “Will you tell us a story, Dany?”

That brought another torrent of “Yes! Please!” from every child and Willa dramatically shaking her head and looking up at the clear sky, though she was grinning. Dany felt herself smiling too. How was she to resist? She may pretend not to enjoy the wave of children that always attacked whenever she set foot into Shadowedge, but, truthfully, it was her favorite part.

“Okay! If you let me sit down first!” she told them. Excitedly cheering, all the children led her back to the table that Willa had outside her house for work. Dany sat down on one of the empty stools, stories racing through her mind as she tried to pick what to tell them about, as Willa lifted Rose out of the sling.

“They’ve been asking if you were coming today since I stepped foot out the door,” she whispered. 

The children gathered at Dany’s feet, jostling for prime positions while Willa settled in another seat, setting Rose on her knee.

“Hmm,” Dany started, theatrically scratching her head, “Did I ever tell you about the Free City of Tyrosh?” 

Wide-eyed, her audience shook their heads. “Babababa ba!” Rose said from Willa’s lap as the healer bounced her slightly, much to the baby’s amusement. Dany smiled at her daughter, before turning back to the rest of the children to begin.

“Tyrosh is a city very very south of here and across the sea on the continent of Essos. It’s warm there, so warm that many Tyroshi clothes are no thicker than linen! 

“When I was little, I lived in Tyrosh for a time - and took on their accent, some of which I’ve been told you can still hear today. The Tyroshi make incredible pear brandy and baked honeyfingers,” she paused, remembering the taste from the last time she had walked through the Tyroshi markets, “and metal helmets shaped into beautiful birds and animals the people from all over come to buy because there are no others like it.

“And the city is a huge fortress, surrounded by high walls - not as high as the Wall, though. Inside is full of markets and temples to every god you could think of. You can’t walk anywhere without seeing a different statue or a different merchant selling jewelry, food, handcraft, anything. It’s very bright there, not only from the warm sun on the land, but from the people as well. You know how up here we see a lot of green, brown, white and grey?”

“And blue! The sky and the water!” one of the children piped up.

“Very true!” Dany replied, “In Tyrosh, they love even brighter colors. Flashy pinks and purples, bright greens and blues, and vermillion - a red brighter and richer than even the red wanderer in the sky. The Tyroshi love colors so much, they can’t just wear it on their clothes, they even dye their hair and beards those colors!” 

At that, the kids giggled and looked at their neighbors’ hair, no doubt thinking of how their people would look with green hair and blue beards. 

“Now, you may be thinking, ‘Dany, how do they get all these colors in the first place? Do they crush plants? Do they just have them? Are they super rare?’ and I would say, ‘No.’”

“Wait...but that’s how you make dye,” Willa interrupted, as enraptured with the story as the kids and barely noticing that Rose was tugging at the beading in her hair. Absently, she placed her hand over Rose’s to release the hold while staring bewilderedly at Dany.

“You’re correct,” Dany said, raising a single finger up with a mischievous smile on her face, “Except for one thing! That’s how  _ we _ make dye. But the Tyroshi have a secret. Anyone think they can guess? No? Are you ready for the answer? Are you sure?”

She paused dramatically, cupping her hands over her mouth as her audience leaned forward.

_ “Snails, _ ” she mock-whispered.

“Snails?” several children and Willa repeated incredulously.

“Sea snails, actually,” Dany replied, “Their secretions change color with their diet and every - ”

“I’M TELLING YOU!” a trader shouted outside of Nerell and Enda’s house, next to Willa’s, where their father stood trading the furs he had from hunting. The sudden noise stopped Dany’s story and she looked around to see who was shouting. 

“It was three times as large as a bull mammoth - maybe more,” the trader was saying, “Couldn’t believe my luck when I’d found the snow bear fresh dead, was gonna tie it up and have the dogs haul it back to camp, when this monster just comes from the clouds. Went straight for me - didn’t even have time to duck! The beast flew right over my head, grabbed the bear, and went right into the clouds again. Wouldn’t’ve even known what it was if I hadn’t seen those two down South during the War.”

Dorand shook his head at the trader. “There aren’t any dragons in the North,” he said dismissively, “Only in legend.”

Turning back to the children, Dany tried to start the story again. “Sorry - where was I? Oh yes, snail secretions! See, if you feed these particular sea snails - ”

“It wasn’t no ice dragon, Dorand,” the trader said harshly, “This’un was black as night. Red spikes down his back. Largest creature I’d ever seen!”

_ Black and red? _ Dany’s eyes widened. She had stopped the story again and was now openly staring at the conversation and caught, out of the corner of her eye, Willa doing the same.

“Listen, Moregg, we’re trading or we’re not,” Dorand replied, glancing at the children and Dany, “I don’t want to hear no more talk about myths.” 

The trader glared in response, pulling his pack up onto his shoulder and heaving off without another word. Dorand turned to Dany, Willa, and the children. “Sorry,” he said shrugging.

Dany shook her head in response, turning back to the children and taking a deep breath to add what she hoped was a convincing smile back onto her face despite her heart thumping and ears ringing with what she had just heard. 

“So...snails,” she began again, sharing a meaningful glance at Willa before continuing her story of the South as her mind began to drift further and further north.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for delaying! I had a sudden realization that my plot made absolutely no sense and got extremely convoluted and had to re-write several chapters (which culminated in shouting an outline to myself while driving home at 10pm) so the weekend became a hiatus to re-evaluate the story and its future. After deliberation, research, and explaining the plot to my cat for some positive meow-ffirmations, I can say the future has brightened again! 
> 
> I will, however, be taking a hiatus after the completion of Book 1 that will last either one or two weeks, but it will have a hard end date (I'm going on vacation and try to avoid computers when on vacation).
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy this chapter. Once again, I edited this while watching the US vs. Spain game, so I apologize for any proofreading mistakes! Also, I added a very very short edit to Chapter 1 of this fic to signify Book 1.
> 
> (Dany's Valyrian basically says "Let's go, my Rosie," though I'm seriously struggling with conjugations so it's probably not grammatically correct)


	20. Daughters and Dragons

Only Willa had seemed to notice what Dorand’s conversation with the trader had meant. The children were completely oblivious, treating the exchange as only a minor interruption to what had quickly become one of their favorites of Dany’s stories. After she had finished the Tyroshi tale, the children had run off to play, shouting loudly about what color their hair and beard would be for their game.

It was a relief to watch them leave. Dany had nearly been unable to finish the story, tripping over herself continuously as her mind raced with thoughts of what the trader had said. 

Drogon  _ was _ in the north. Old Dryn had been telling the truth, as had her dreams.  _ But what is he doing here if he isn’t coming to find me? _ Though most of her was perplexed, a small part of Dany was very hurt by the realization that Drogon had seemingly come with his own agenda. Did he blame her for abandoning him? Would she ever get to tell him that she had no choice?  _ How do you explain “conspicuous” to a dragon? _ More importantly, though, what  _ was _ his agenda? 

She remembered the feeling from one of her dreams that something had compelled Drogon northward. Though she couldn’t remember what it was, it invoked a funny feeling deep in her chest that there was somewhere else she should be.

“Are you finished scrutinizing the knot in my table?” Willa asked, breaking Dany out of her thoughts. Two little feet landed on the table, bouncing, and she looked up to see Willa holding Rose’s hands as the baby swayed, trying to keep herself upright. The sun had moved across the sky in the time she had been staring.

“Sorry, I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” she said, shaking her head a little to try and clear her thoughts. Rose lost her balance and pulling at Willa’s arms as she sat down on the table, violet eyes wide with the sudden development and turning to Dany. Ghost popped up from underneath the table to see what had happened. Dramatically, Dany spread her hands and pretended to look shocked. “ _ Skorion massitas,  _ Rosie?” she asked. Her daughter giggled and the direwolf settled back down by Dany’s feet.

“Mm...hearing about your long lost dragon would do that,” her friend replied, picking Rose up and placing the baby’s feet on the table again.

Dany pursed her lips, watching her daughter and friend together. “What are you doing?” she asked as Rose swayed and fell on her butt again (Ghost’s head reappeared over the table).

“Just seeing what happens,” Willa replied, letting go of Rose’s hands and sitting down. Dany placed a hand at Rose’s back automatically, although Rose could now sit up on her own. Willa looked at her more seriously. “It  _ is _ Drogon isn’t it? The trader wasn’t making it up?”

Leaning her head on the hand that wasn’t occupied with Rose, Dany huffed a sigh. “I don’t know,” she said, before frowning, “No, that’s a lie. I do know. I  _ know  _ it’s him. I just do. But I don’t understand.”

“Why he wouldn’t come to you and instead rob a man of his dead bear somewhere north of here?” Willa translated, taking away a rock from Rose, who had been angling to stick it in her mouth and trading her for a braided cloth that she had seemingly produced from nowhere.

“Why he’s in the north at all!”

“Because my love and my daughter are here,” came the teasing answer from behind Dany. Strong arms wrapped around her middle and she felt Jon’s chin on her shoulder. 

Rose was ecstatic. “Ba! Bababababa!” she exclaimed, shaking the braid-toy up and down and bouncing on her rear. Her father smiled, reaching out from Dany’s waist to take Rose’s hand in his own.

“Hi, Rosie,” he greeted her. Rose smiled, flashing her only two teeth (the bottom front ones) in the process. “Who’s in the north?” Jon asked, shifting to the stool next to Dany and continuing to play with Rose, shaking her hand up and down. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he did so, creasing at the now-familiar lines from smiling.

“It’s Drogon, Jon,” she told him, Willa adding, “We think.”

Jon’s expression turned from a smile to a goggle in an instant, and he stopped moving Rose’s hand to turn and look at Dany, who nodded in confirmation. 

Clearing his throat, he blinked several times. “You saw him? Here?” he asked incredulously. Rose protested at the sudden end of her game, tugging at her father’s fingers.

“No, no I haven’t seen him at all - at least not while awake. A trader passed through and told Dorand that a black dragon took a snow bear from right in front of him,” she explained. 

“And you think it’s Drogon?”

Dany regarded him with pursed lips. “How many other black and red dragons are in the world?” she asked him impatiently. 

Though Jon continued to look incredulous, he nodded slowly. “Where was the trader from?” he asked.

It was Willa who replied to that one. “Oh, he travels here and there, wherever the people are. Trades in bone tools - pretty good ones. But I heard him yesterday talking about recent trades in Thenn, so he must have come from the northern forest. Didn’t have any walrus or seal bone tools this time, so he can’t have been near any shores recently.”

“Hmm,” was all that Jon replied, taking up Dany’s old position of staring at the knot in Willa’s table.   _ It’s no use wondering about a dragon who isn’t wondering about me _ , Dany thought sourly. “Wait - what do you mean you haven’t seen him while  _ awake _ ?”

“I’ve been dreaming about him,” she said evasively, her bitterness of having not seen Drogon for herself angrily taking over. Changing the subject she asked, “I’m guessing you’re here to tell me that Tormund didn’t break the house?”

Jon frowned, but didn’t press her any more, instead replying, “Why don’t you come home with me and find out for yourself?”

They walked home in comfortable silence, or what would have been comfortable had Dany not been preoccupied with continued thoughts of Drogon in the north. She was now torn between an ache in her heart to find him, and a bitterness that he hadn’t even bothered to show up.  _ It’s my fault _ , she thought sadly when the bitterness struck again,  _ I’m the one who left him behind _ . And now, with the news she had heard, she felt unsure if she would ever be able to set that right.

From the outside, the house looked no different to Dany as she walked into the clearing. A plume of smoke rose from it as usual, the furs from their bed hung outside where Dany had left them to air out, and it didn’t look as if Tormund had broken anything while wielding his ax. The red man wasn’t there, having come to the village with Jon and stayed behind.

Of course, Dany had seen the room on the back of the house get built from the outside, so she knew it was clearly there. But there was definitely something jarring about walking into her home and seeing a door hole where the wall used to be. 

As she walked in, Dany saw that Jon had more than one surprise in store. “A bed already, Jon?” she asked him, eyeing the narrow sleeping spot with raised sides.

“The cradle’s getting too small, Dany. And I built it so she can’t roll out. And once she can sleep on something softer, we can replace this with the feather mattress,” he said, bringing Rose out of the sling, “Do you like it?”

Dany turned around in the small room. It was warm and comfortable, well-heated by the fire. There would even be room for a second bed, eventually.  _ When we need it _ .

“Yes,” she replied, smiling at him, “Of course I love it. She’s just growing fast. Seeing the bed made me remember that.” She reached out to take Rose into her arms, marveling at how the baby who had once nestled close to her chest to sleep could now be moving on to sleep in a bed in her own room. 

“I wouldn’t be too wistful about that,” Jon chuckled, pulling Dany closer and bringing his arm around both of them, “I’m sure plenty of cries to mama will be made during the night.”

Dany looked up at him. “I’m pretty sure ‘Ba’ means ‘papa,’” she said. 

“Only every other time,” Jon reminded her, kissing her hair.

~

Unfortunately, Jon predicted the future too well and Rose took ages to settle down in her new surroundings that night. Try as they might to alternate who got up each time she started crying, Rose absolutely refused to calm down for Jon. Dany resigned herself to walking zombie-like from one bed to the other, eyes barely open, and ears ringing with Rose’s cries to pick her up out of the bed until she calmed down and then place her back. 

After the eighth time, Dany didn’t even bother turning the right way when she reached her bed again, and fell with her head on Jon’s lap and her feet dangling off the bed, poised to slide back out when Rose cried the next time. Vaguely, she felt Jon’s hand move onto her head before instantly falling asleep and melting into a world of white.

She was flying over a fresh expanse of snow and ice with slender, tall trees dotting along the way. Up ahead, an isolated mountain rose amongst a copse of thicker trees that tapered into two distinct lines that curved outwards like the beginnings of two spirals. Losing height, she just scraped the tops of the trees as she came to land near the foot of the mountain. Before her, the mountain opened into a dark cave. It was ringed with ice and frosty air seemed to unfurl before her. It seeped into her bones and chased away any warmth she had, but resolve made her press on. She stepped closer, meaning to enter the cave, when two enormous, blue eyes blinked out from the darkness. 

“Don’t!” Dany shouted, sitting up in bed. No longer before a mountain, Dany had been laying in bed the correct way before sitting up. Light streamed into the house and as Dany gained her bearings, she noticed Jon standing in front of her holding Rose. 

“I don’t have to bring her over if you don’t want,” he said, looking concerned.

“Oh, no - I mean yes! - yes, I want her. Sorry,” Dany said, her voice still hoarse with sleep. 

Nodding, Jon handed Rose to Dany, who sat her on her lap and gently brushed through Rose’s curls with her finger tips. Jon sat down next to them, eyeing Dany closely.

“It was Drogon,” she said quietly, not looking up from Rose, but knowing Jon well enough to answer the question he wasn’t planning on asking.

“Like what you said about yesterday?” Jon asked, “You’ve been having dreams about him for a while.” 

“Yes,” she replied, “And yes, it’s been happening since I was pregnant. Until yesterday, I wasn’t really sure if they were real. I’ve dreamt of dragons since I was little. But now…”

“They’re different,” he finished for her, “What have the dreams been about?”

Pausing in brushing through Rose’s hair, she looked up at him. “Mostly flying. Every time is different, but I started remembering the dreams more clearly once Rose was born. This last one, though...it was  _ vivid _ . It was at a cave. There was this lone mountain in the middle of forest - a strange forest. Its trees ended up branching into two lines like a huge section of the middle had been cut away. I don’t think it was far from the sea. I - he flew there. And, right before I woke up, he was at the mouth of this frozen cave in the mountain and…” How was she supposed to describe the eyes? Eyes paler than the lightest winter rose on the bushes by the barn, haunting and almost... _ had they looked expectant? _

“A cave on a lone mountain in a forest with branching sections?” Jon repeated, brow furrowing.

“I know, it didn’t even look - ”

“No,” Jon said, stopping her, “No, I think I know where that is.” Taken aback, Dany looked at Jon like he had suddenly claimed Rose had learned to cartwheel. “You’re sure these dreams are real, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but, Jon, it’s not like there’s - ”

“Why not?”

“I can’t just go wherever you think this is!” Dany insisted, “For all I know, they are just dreams.”  _ Liar _ , a voice in her head scolded,  _ You’re just scared of what happens when you find him _ . 

“You know they’re not just dreams,” Jon told her. She nodded, wondering if her most recent dream was clearer now because she was certain that the trader from yesterday had been talking about Drogon, which confirmed that all of this was real. But fear bubbled up inside her at the notion of confirmation.

“I’m scared of it, Jon,” she admitted quietly, averting her eyes again, “I  _ do _ want to find him. But...I’m scared of what happens if I do. How do I apologize for abandoning him? And...what happens if he comes with me?”

“You think that finding Drogon makes you Daenerys Targaryen again,” Jon inferred, a look of understanding crossing his face. 

“You once told me that being able to walk away from everything made me different from my father. What does it make me if I try to find part of it again? And what if Drogon doesn’t want to be found?” 

“Dany,” Jon said, taking her hand that lay behind Rose’s back and squeezing it, “We’re not talking about seeking out an army again. Or a way to conquer Westeros or the free folk. Drogon’s not a weapon. He’s your child.”

He looked at Rose, a familiar look of love and awe crossing his face as she looked back up at him, muted violet eyes onto gray ones.

“I’ve seen the two of you before. I don’t think he would hold a grudge against you. And you won’t have to go alone,” Jon said, looking back at her with a serious expression, “We’ll do this together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like mother, like dragon, seeking out caves to stay in. We've started to get tiny hints about what Drogon is up to, there's one or two more buried in past chapters. Although we'll never know for sure, I'd like to think that Drogon started his journey to get to Dany once he realized she wasn't coming back to Dragonstone, but got sidetracked on the way.
> 
> Only a few more chapters in this first Book. Also, if you haven't looked, go check out the small edit to the beginning Chapter 1.


	21. Northward

“You know, when I woke up this morning and wondered what the day would bring, I didn’t expect it to bring a child and a pet dog,” Willa remarked coldly as she sat with Jon, Dany, and Tormund in her house. Dany and Jon were dressed and packed for traveling. Rose was sitting against Ghost on Willa’s bed, babbling happily as she played with the braided cloth that Willa had given her the day before.

Dany was still trying to process the last day in which she had somehow been convinced that going to seek out Drogon with Jon was the right idea, while Willa had been convinced to take in Rose (and by extension, Ghost) until they returned.

“You’re insane,” Willa had pronounced as soon as they told her the plan, “You know how ridiculous this sounds? Chasing a dragon that may or may not be where you think he is and leaving behind your definitively here baby. I’ve been a nomad. It was a hard life _with_ other free folk around. Now the north is empty. And the walk to Mammoth’s Head was never been populous to begin with.”

Mammoth’s Head was the name of the small, lone mountain Dany had described in her dream. Apparently, it was a good marker to those crossing over to the sea from Thenn or the Frostfangs that they were headed in the right direction. If the mountain was ahead and to your left, you were going the right way.

“And what if you get lost? Or separated? Or he isn’t there? Are you just going to keep looking or turn around and come back? What happens to your daughter if you _never_ come back?”

“He’s my child too, Willa!” Dany snapped, a headache angrily protesting behind her right eye.

 _He’s my child too_ , had become her mind’s constant refrain in an attempt to convince herself that this was the right choice. Though Dany knew that one child was a baby and the other was a twenty-foot or so dragon, she felt overwhelmingly compelled to go to Mammoth’s Head. But the continued realizations that she was about to leave her seven month-old daughter behind and go on a potentially deadly trek to a place that neither Jon, nor Tormund, nor Willa had ever seen closer than at a distance to potentially find her other child at a dangerous cave where something else most likely sinister lived were in a stalemate against her resolve and it had resulted in a nasty migraine that left her feeling more anxious and abrasive than usual.

“I need to know if this is Drogon,” Dany continued, trying to stay calm. 

Willa had opened her mouth to retort, but fell silent at a look from Tormund, though she still looked mutinous, as if she was going to poison Dany to keep her in Shadowedge. 

Now she cleared her throat, getting up from her seat. The rest of them stood up, Dany pulling her satchel back onto her shoulder. _If I don’t leave now, I’ll never do it_ . _And then I’ll be left wondering if I should have gone for the rest of my life._

“I’ve told you everything I know about that area,” Tormund said, clapping Jon on the back as they got ready to leave, “You’re sure you don’t want an extra hand coming with you?”

“I’d feel much better knowing that you’re still here,” Jon told him, throwing an uneasy glance at a still-angry Willa.

“Suppose it doesn’t hurt to stay until you’re returned,” the red man replied, “But if you’re not back within a month, I’ll come for you.” 

While Jon and Tormund spoke, Dany had made her way over to Ghost and Rose. The baby greeted her mother with an enormous grin and shouted excitedly when Dany picked her up and kissed her cheeks.

“ _Avy jorraelan_ , Rosie,” she whispered, her throat constricting with each syllable, “We’ll be back soon.”

“Real soon,” Jon said from behind her, his hand coming to Rose’s cheek. They remained for only a moment before Dany turned and passed Rose to Willa, swallowing and blinking back the sting in her eyes that came from both leaving her daughter and the sight of her best friend refusing to meet her eye. She and Jon headed through the door before turning back to look at their friends and daughter once more.

“One month,” Tormund repeated, standing behind Willa, who looked at her feet, and Rose. It took every ounce of Dany’s strength not to allow her legs to walk back to her daughter, who was looking very confused about why mama and papa weren’t next to her. 

Jon nodded, taking Dany’s hand. “We’ll be back,” he promised. 

They turned to leave and Dany wrenched her eyes away from a perplexed Rose and a red-faced Willa, praying to get far enough away before Rose figured out that she wasn’t coming with them.

~ 

It was four days before they saw any other sign of life besides the trees and an occasional stag. Dany and Jon trudged along the coast of the north, making sure to always be able to see the Shivering Sea horizon if they ducked out of the trees. Mostly, however, they tried to remain in the tree shelter. The wind was bitterly cold and aggressively tore through the little skin they had exposed around their face. 

While the snow by Shadowedge had become a foot of powder over permafrost, the more north they went, the more frozen the snow became until their footsteps were punctuated with crunching that seemed to try to alert every cannibal, snow bear, and wild beast for days of where they were. 

“Ah, dammit!” Dany cursed as she took a step too close to a tree and slipped into a bank much deeper than it appeared. She would’ve liked to blame the slip on the darkening sky and low visibility, but this was the third time she had done it that day. _I just can’t spot these drifts_ , she thought exasperatedly, _Although Willa would have laughed if she saw this_. Shame washed over her, thinking of her friend. Dany had desperately tried to keep any thoughts of home only on Rose, but times like this left her with a bad taste in her mouth from how she had said goodbye to Willa.

“Hold on,” Jon told her, running back from where he had been ranging ahead. Making sure his ground was steady before offering Dany a hand, he helped her out of the bank. “You all right?”

Dany dusted herself off, shaking out her arms and legs to get as much snow off as possible. “Thanks,” she said, “I’m fine. Small price to pay for keeping out of that wind.”

The times they had been in sparsely-populated tree areas had been nightmares. Dany’s face was still raw from their meetup with the wind earlier in the day. Her lips were cracked and she could taste blood still oozing from a couple of spots. _And I complained about walking across the Vale. That was nothing_.

“I think I found a good spot to camp for the night,” Jon continued, “Rock overhang a little further on. Almost no wind. Not quite a cave, but…”

“As long as I don’t have to sleep in a snowbank, I don’t mind,” Dany said, motioning to continue on, “Just lead the way.”

Jon was right, the overhang was extremely sheltered from the elements that had been plaguing them. With a nice fire going, it was nearly comfortable. Admittedly, what would have made Dany wholly comfortable was a real bed, so they were doing pretty well all things considered. They lay together on their furs, so reminiscent of their first journey together, watching the green lights dance overhead.

“Maester Luwin said it was called the aurora,” Jon said, stretching his arm out to point at the lights. They sometimes crossed over their house in Shadowedge, but Dany had never seen them this vibrant before. Briefly, Dany wondered what they would look like to Drogon when he was flying. “It’s a nice word, isn’t it? Aurora.”

“We’re not naming her after lights, Jon,” Dany said, rolling her eyes.

“You’re the one who insisted on naming her after a flower,” Jon countered. 

To pass the time as they walked, Jon and Dany had started thinking of names for Rose once she reached her second nameday. It was far off, _but then again I thought sleeping in her own bed was far off_. Thinking of Rose caused more familiar pangs of heartache. Dany wondered how their daughter had taken to sleeping at Willa’s house. Had she cried at night? Was she okay because Ghost was there? Did she say her first word or at least something other than “ba?” Was she thinking of her parents, in her own baby way, missing them the way that they desperately missed her?

“ _You_ didn’t have any objections. And it’s only a milkname,” she replied crossly, “What about Alysanne?”

Jon shook his head. “I like the idea...but not the name. Lyarra?”

“Like your grandmother? It’s pretty...but it sounds like a lion for some reason,” Dany told him, hearing a Lannister lylt to the name, “Lyanne?”

“Too close. Jocelyn?”

“No. Shiera?”

“No, what about - ”

“Shh!”

“Hey!” Jon said, “It’s my turn to - ”

“No!” Dany hissed, “There’s something there. I swear I saw something move.”

Quietly, they both sat up, squinting past the fire. Jon instinctively reached for Longclaw, hand ready to draw it up in a second, while Dany found the carving knife she had been using earlier.

Only the pop of the fire could be heard before Dany saw it again: a glow. Not belonging to the fire, but to two distinct, yellow eyes that seemed to move silently through the darkness of the trees. 

A shadowcat. 

It slipped into view soundlessly, its white stripes seemed to faintly shimmer in the firelight. Jon reached for Dany’s hand, gripping it as the cat crossed right between them and the fire. Powerful muscles rippled underneath its long, black and white coat and each pawstep it took was so imperceptible that Dany had to hold her breath to hear it. It paused, catching Dany’s eye with a glowing yellow stare that had made her swallow any breath she was holding. And then it was gone. Melted into the shadows again, becoming part of the night. 

Fleetingly, Dany thought of how many times she had used shadowcats as part of an expression. She felt disrespectful. They couldn’t possibly be trifled in that way. 

“Wow,” Dany breathed once it had vanished. Although she knew shadowcats existed throughout Westeros, including the Mountains of the Moon, which Dany and Jon had traveled along, she had never seen one before. “Why didn’t it attack us?” she asked, suddenly remembering that the breathtaking creature was also one of the most feared predators. It stripped carcasses down to the bones before cracking the bones to reach any marrow inside. Jon had once pointed out a carcass that had been cleaned by a shadowcat. There had been nothing left. The bones were dried out and brittle, and looked painstakingly cleaned as if someone was planning to use them for tools.

“They rarely attack humans, especially two humans that were watching its every move,” Jon told her, “But they’re curious. And they can smell blood for miles.” Pointedly, Jon swiped his thumb delicately across Dany’s sore lips. 

She licked them, tasting the metallic tang that he was referring to. “Don’t lick them,” Jon said, “That just makes it worse.”

“Feels good in the moment,” Dany grumbled as she and Jon lay back down. 

“Aye, but they’ll just get more raw after that. Then we’ll have several hungry shadowcats to deal with.” _That wouldn’t be so bad_ , Dany thought, wishing she had more time to marvel at the impressive creature that had come and gone so quickly.

Habitually, Dany went to lick her lips again, but stopped and instead simply mashed them together as she shifted closer to Jon. Even without being able to see her face, Dany knew her annoyance must have been palpable because he chuckled. “They’ll heal with time and hopefully less of a biting cold,” Jon promised her, “Just keep your tongue in your mouth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Mammoth's Head (which is my own creation) is a land formation called an "inselberg" or a "monadnock." It's an isolated small mountain that abruptly rises from a plain. I actually had to research and make sure that things like this existed, so I learned the word for them.
> 
> Rose's name change! Wonder what it will be? Did I write it down already? Is it still a secret? Hmm.
> 
> Dany's Valyrian in this chapter means "I love you."


	22. In the Mammoth's Head

Instead of the wind dying down or being less biting, it grew worse and worse as Jon and Dany went on. It picked up the loose snow from drifts and Dany felt as though her face was being ripped to shreds by the tiniest grains of frozen sand. No longer protected by any thick forest, the most shelter they could find for the night were a few thin sentinel trees. They did not sleep, instead soldiering on in hopes that another copse of trees may crop up and give them enough shelter to start a fire.  _ Or maybe we’ll just walk into them _ , Dany thought grimly.

Several times, they were walking completely blind, holding onto each other with fierce grips as they went. Hopelessly, Dany thought of Rose.  _ How could we be so reckless? _ In this weather, if one of them got lost, both were as good as dead. Their child an orphan before she could even say “mama.” Willa had been right. 

But they were here now. There was no use doing anything but going forward to their destination...wherever that may be.

When the whiteout cleared, it was so bitterly cold that the very land ahead of them seemed tinged blue with freeze. Low clouds hung in the sky, grey and threatening.

“D-Dany!” Jon hissed, his breath unfurling from beneath his hood in a white waft, “Look!”

He pointed his free hand out to a looming point in the distance that the clouds seemed to rest upon. 

“I-i-is th-th-th-th-at -?” she broke off her chatter, unable to think of the rest of the words.

Jon turned toward her and nodded. The Mammoth’s Head. It unmistakably rose out of the flatlands only a few miles ahead of them. She could already see the first few trees of each distinct line. Although it did not look different than any other small mountain, she trusted in Jon’s keen sense of geography - even in continual squalls - that this was the right one.

_ Please have shelter _ , Dany prayed. Frozen streaks were visible by Jon’s eyes and Dany could feel her own tears from the wind cracking and pulling at her raw skin. Jon was so covered in snow that his hair and beard looked nearly white.

“W-we j-ju-just nneed to k-k-keep walking,” he stammered, pulling on Dany’s hand to march forward again.  _ It must be cold if Jon’s chattering _ , Dany thought, feeling her own body shivering so badly now that she could barely walk properly or even breathe well.

After what seemed like an eon, they were at the first trees. The weather had held off, but the temperature continued to plummet, although Dany barely felt a difference anymore. A frozen mist was draped over the land and wreathed around the trees like the little warmth they gave off had just paused and crystallized in the air. 

“This is it,” Dany breathed as they walked down the center of the two tree lines. It felt like every step she took was leaden with pure exhaustion, but she wanted nothing more than to get to the thicker trees.

Jon paused as they entered the beginning of the central forest before the mountain. “You stopped shivering,” he said in a strangely grave tone. 

“Yes, why?” she asked. Before he could answer, however, a horrendous screech shook the very earth and even the crystalled air trembled. 

Instantly, both Jon and Dany both looked up as the low clouds broke and a huge, terrible form barreled down to them with deadly ferocity. It crashed through the trees and landed between them and the mountain, roaring in rage and showing off its rows of black teeth.

Dany’s stomach dropped. 

It was Drogon. 

Though, not as Dany had left him. She supposed she ought to be terrified of an angry dragon distinctly telling her to back off or relieved that she had found her child, but all she could feel is horrified. 

_ What  _ happened _ to you? _ Drogon was no longer the magnificent rich black dragon that had impressed and struck fear into the hearts of lesser beings. Instead, he looked almost grey and Dany knew it was not the dim light that caused it. His eyes were dull and though his defensiveness was palpable, if anything Drogon just seemed sick.

Drogon roared again, but there was almost a haggard rasp behind it. If he were human, he would have had a terrible cough. Dany took a step towards the defensive dragon, her hands raised in peace. He tried roaring at her again, but it was even more feeble than last time. 

“Something’s wrong,” she whispered, not taking her eyes off Drogon, though she heard Jon move behind her. Drogon’s dull eyes flicked to where she believed Jon was standing, but he quickly refocused back on Dany.

She inched closer, taking small steps and never looking away from the dragon’s eye. “ _ Ziry iksos sȳz _ ,” she said calmly to him, “ _ Ziry iksos aōha muñnykeā _ .” Drogon eyed her cautiously, backed into a pose like a cat prepared to strike at prey, but his legs and wings shook with the effort.

“ _ Ziry iksos mērī aōha muñnykeā. Nyke kesrī naejot dohaeragon ao _ ,” she soothed, now within arms’ reach of her child. Closer up, Drogon looked even worse: stretched and thin, even ragged if dragon scales could be described that way. Dany wondered briefly if the bear he had stolen had been one of his only meals in months. He looked weaker now than when he was a baby. A lump settled in Dany’s throat, realizing how ill her child was, how ill she had left him to become.

“ _ Ziry iksos sepār issa _ ,” she told him again, voice cracking with emotion as she reached one heavy hand out towards his nose. Drogon’s nostrils flared suspiciously, but he leaned out his nose to sniff her hand. Though his eyes were dull, recognition finally seemed to flare up in them and Drogon’s eyes widened. His posture instantly relaxed, just wanting his mother at this moment.  _ So like Rose _ , Dany thought, remembering the first night she was alone in her new room. Drogon closed the space between them, a rattling dragon-like purr deep in his throat as Dany stroked his scaly nose. 

“I’m here,” Dany murmured, smiling as he nudged her hand for more petting.

Suddenly, Drogon perked up, eyes open and looking at a point beyond Dany that erupted into yellow light. Recovering from her flinch when the dragon had reacted, Dany whipped around to see a figure stoking what was becoming a large fire in the shelter of the thickest trees just to their left. It was already hot enough that it stung Dany’s face and she welcomed it wholeheartedly, peculiarly realizing that she had been unable to feel her nose for the last day until now. 

It seemed to reinvigorate Drogon as much as Dany and they both gravitated towards the fire, mesmerized. 

Jon, arms still full of wood, walked over to Dany. He regarded Drogon carefully, but the dragon paid him no mind. Fixated on the fire, he lay his enormous body down as if trying to curl around one side of it and soak up all the warmth he could. Dany could have sworn his scales grew richer in color instantly and he let out another deep dragon-purr as Jon added more wood to feed the flames. 

“Neither of you looked like you were going to be able to handle much more cold,” Jon said as he came up beside her, relaxing as he watched Drogon lounge like a dog, closing his eyes contentedly, “You stopped shivering.”

“You said that before,” Dany said, forcing her memories to work as they felt muddled in her head.

Jon nodded. “Means you’re too cold. Your body gets confused and you can get pretty sick if you don’t warm up. It happened to Arya once when we were little,” he told her, “I think the same thing is happening to Drogon, too. Did you notice he didn’t try to breathe fire at all?” 

“But why would he stay here, then?” Dany asked, looking at the now placid dragon soaking up all the warmth, “He could obviously still fly even if he couldn’t breathe fire. Why didn’t he just go somewhere warmer? Or somewhere with better hunting?”

“What else did you dream about when you had this last dream? When you called out at the end,” Jon asked, pulling Dany to sit with him on a large rock close in front of the fire by Drogon’s foot. His face was hard in thought and he scrutinized Drogon similarly to Dany, trying to figure out the dragon’s motives. 

She nestled close to him, feeling a tiny bit of warmth beginning to seep back into her. “Eyes,” she said, staring into the fire, “In the frozen cave where Drogon had landed. There were blue eyes in the gloom.”

“White Walker eyes?” asked Jon warily, she felt his grip around her tighten.

Dany shook her head against him. “No,” she reassured, “That’s what I was scared of at first, why I woke up. But it was the wrong blue. It was a pale blue like a summer sky. And it was almost as if Drogon knew what they were. The way he acted before...do you think he’s guarding whatever’s in there?” 

She thought of the strange pull north she had felt in past dreams, and the sense of knowing Drogon seemed to have about coming here. Even as sick as he was, he was willing to fight until he saw who had come. It reminded Dany of the encounter with the ice-river cannibal and how she felt about defending herself, Rose, and Willa. But what could possibly make him think that way? He only ever defended food, and obviously there wasn’t much of that.  _ Family? _

Briefly, Dany’s thoughts flashed to Viserion.  _ Wrong blue _ , she told herself, feeling stupid for even thinking that.  Drogon shifted behind them, pulling his feet underneath himself to stand back up and gently shake off the snow. He was still thin and ragged, but Dany thought he already looked healthier. Rejuvenated by the fire. 

Drogon seemed to think so as well. The dragon glanced back at Dany, stretching his wings, and she smacked Jon’s arm. “Jon, we need to go, now!” Dany urged, sliding from the rock and pulling Jon with her.

“Where?” he asked bewildered. 

Drogon had the answer. He lumbered off, setting a quick pace even without flying, straight toward the Mammoth’s Head in the center of the forest.  _ Let’s wonder no more _ , Dany thought recklessly.

“Come  _ on _ !” Dany said, taking Jon’s hand and heading off after Drogon, leaving the warmth behind and plunging once again into a deep freeze. 

They all but raced through the forest. The closer they got to Mammoth’s Head at the center, the colder it became. Crunching through the snow turned into stamping feet on frozen ground and sliding, as only Drogon was heavy enough to make tracks. Trees bent over with icicles as large as stalactites weighing them down. Frozen mist seemed to creep along the top of the snow, as thick as fog. 

Dany and Jon had both begun to shiver again as they edged closer to what Dany knew would be the entrance to the cave. Drogon had slowed as well, his approach becoming cautious and oddly submissive. 

The trees parted before them and revealed the vision from Dany’s dreams: an ice cave. Had it been in Essos, the cave would have just been a cave in a mountain, but the frozen weather had transformed it into something else entirely. It looked almost too perfect, and entirely too cold for even a Northman or a free folk nomad to want to shelter in. 

The cave was dead center on the face of the mountain, which, up close, did not resemble a mammoth head at all. Instead, it reminded Dany of some of her early carving pieces and looked like a quite overlarge potato with a very big hole in the center. Mammoth’s Head loomed over them, its top hidden in the low, dark clouds, and cast a shadow over the already dim forest. 

It was adorned with enormous icicles, circling around as if it were a round mouth full of incredibly sharp teeth. The teeth seemed to point both inwards and outwards on the bottom, but only straight down from the top. In fact, Dany swore it could have been mistaken for a mouth. Huge wafts of frosty air uncoiled from the cave’s dark center as if it were breathing. The air was so cold that when it hit Dany, she felt as though every ounce of warmth she had gained from the fire was gone.  _ C-c-can it g-get any c-c-c-colder? _ Even her thoughts chattered. Jon’s breath hitched beside her and she knew he must have felt the same. 

Beside them, Drogon had stopped. The dragon raised his head up and made the most unusual sound Dany had ever heard from deep in his stomach. Not so unlike the purr he had made earlier, it was a low rumble that she would have associated with humming underwater. Had she not been standing right next to him, she wouldn’t have been able to hear it. 

The cave responded. Jon and Dany both jumped at the sound, Jon grabbing onto Dany’s wrist, and she wildly wondered if it actually was a mouth. 

_ Not a mouth, _ Dany realized,  _ a home _ . Two large, pale blue eyes glowed in the darkness of the cave behind the icicles and looked from Drogon, to the humans next to him, and then back to Drogon. They blinked curiously before growing larger. Larger. And larger. Until Dany was able to look upon the face that they belonged to as it stretched its neck out beyond the ice.

“B-b-but th-they’re a m-m-my-myth!” Jon exclaimed.

It wasn’t Viserion, but Dany had been half right about what was in the cave. 

It was a dragon. A dragon that looked like solid ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many of you guessed it: an ice dragon! Which are mythical beings in the Land of Ice and Fire. And when I wrote this story, the first thing I knew was that Jon and Dany would have a kid quickly. The second thing was that there would be an ice dragon.
> 
> It's looking like tomorrow will be the last chapter before the hiatus and also the last chapter of this Book.


	23. Empty Nesting

The dragon was much larger than Drogon, but almost looked as if it could have been his ghost. Instead of colored scales, it was adorned with layers upon layers of what could have been translucent crystal that Dany thought must sparkle in sunlight though now they seemed dark underneath the clouds. The eyes were the same pale blue Dany had seen in her dreams. Curiously, they looked tired like Drogon’s had been before he lay in front of the fire, as if the dragon had been having just as rough a time here. 

Now, Drogon had moved to stand in front of the rows of icicles, taking turns eyeing Dany and Jon, the other dragon, and the icicles. The ice dragon did the same, looking very cautious, but not defensive like Drogon had first been. Dany wondered if Drogon’s low rumble had been assurance on top of greeting, wishing desperately that she knew what he was thinking right now. 

“Wh-wh-at are th-they l-l-looking at?” Jon chattered, watching both dragons’ pattern of gazes. 

Dany peeked forward towards the icicles, getting a roar from the ice dragon and a defensive hiss from Drogon. Both crouched protectively, guarding the cave. 

“I-it’s okay,” Dany murmured, holding her hands up like she had done when Drogon first appeared, “I d-d-don’t want t-t-to take. Just he-he-he-lp.” As much as she preferred speaking Valyrian to her children, it was useless when she was chattering so hard.

Protective, but seemingly reassured, Drogon backed down and Dany could hear him rumbling to the other dragon who also backed down after coaxing, but still looked mistrustful.

Slowly, she took a couple steps closer, resisting Jon’s hand pulling her back.

She peered into the cave and her shivering breath caught in her throat. “J-j-jon,” she croaked in a strangled whisper, “I-it’s n-n-not a mouth.”

“Wh-what?” he hissed bewilderedly. Dany made a small motion for him to come next to her. The ice dragon eyed him, but didn’t make any move to defend the cave again as Jon approached. 

“I-i-it’s a nes-st,” Dany breathed, pointing to the bottom icicles. They were created to be protective, but not of the cave. In the center of the bottom ring, where the top ones pointed down to, lay three scaled eggs in a blanket of snow. Each of them were half buried in the snow and, as they stared, the ice dragon breathed frost over them causing the silvery eggs to sparkle. Two were shaking like the cold was too much for them as well. The third stayed still. It looked more dull than the shaking ones, which seemed vibrant even in the dim light.

At first glance, the eggs not seem to be as distinct as other dragon eggs. Dany remembered how Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal’s eggs all looked very unique - something that was reflected in their scales once they had hatched. They all had the same magic about them, however, and Dany was struck with the same feeling that she had the first time she held her eggs in her hands.

Carefully, Dany picked in between the icicles to take a closer look. The ice dragon made a wary noise, but Drogon rumbled reassuringly again. It reminded her of how she felt about Rose the first time they had gone into the village after she was born. People seemed to swarm them to get a closer look at the new baby and Dany was pretty sure she would have turned into a defensive mother dragon had Jon not been there. 

The eggs were, in fact, unique. Much more understated than her children’s, but she could tell them apart. One had violet swirls running through the silver. The second had a light scarlet stripe running around the longest part of the egg. On the third, the dull one and also the smallest, some of the egg scales were faint gold rather than silver. The violet and scarlet were dislodging the snow around them while the gold merely laid there. 

Drogon and his companion peeked over at the eggs expectantly. 

“Jon,” Dany said, “I think they’re hatching.” At this, the ice dragon sucked in a huge breath and Dany barely registered what was happening before Jon grabbed at her clothes, tugging her back as the dragon loosed a frozen breath over the eggs. It was the coldest one yet, and Dany was certain she would have been reduced to nothing but shivers if Jon hadn’t pulled her back. Was it really this cold in Mammoth’s Head? Or was it just a dragon providing for her eggs?

There were two low cracks, near simultaneous to one another, that would have been nearly undetectable had humans and dragons not collectively been holding their breath together. All of them looked into the ice nest together. 

The violet egg had rolled out of its place and was teetering aggressively, jagged lines ripping across the sparkling scaled surface. Nearby, the top of the scarlet egg had cracked all the way around and a little hole was appearing through the stripe. 

“Wow,” Jon breathed, instantly reminding Dany of when Rose was born. She smiled, taking his hand as they listened to the crunching and scraping sounds coming from both eggs.

First came the scarlet egg. The top of it was finally loosed from the rest of the egg and immediately a tiny diamond-shaped head popped out, blinking its baby eyes as it looked around for its mother. It cooed happily when the ice dragon lowered her head down and breathed a small plume of frost over the new dragon’s head. The Scarlet (as Dany named it for now) sneezed out steam, hard enough to crack the rest of the egg so that it tumbled out. 

Its sibling had managed to poke legs through two of the violet swirls. The egg burst apart as the Violet stretched its wings and pushed on the weakened egg. It scrambled on unsteady legs and wings towards the Scarlet and their mother and was greeted with another small frost blast.

_ Come on, _ Dany thought, wrenching her eyes from the baby dragons to look at the third egg,  _ come on, hatch! _ She was filled with a sudden, more uncomfortable cold that had nothing to do with the continued frosts from the ice dragon.

Jon and Drogon both seemed to think along the same line and leaned closer to the gold and silver egg that sat perfectly still where it had lain all along. Gently, Drogon nosed the egg, but it did not respond. 

The ice dragon, too, had come away from her new hatchlings to check on the third egg. She gave a quiet rumble, nosing it gently as Drogon had done, then harder in what Dany expected was desperation. 

Her heart clenched as she watched both dragons try to help their failed hatchling along. When Drogon let out an unmistakable cry of anguish, Dany crossed over to him and reached her hand out to press against her child’s scaly side. 

Drogon hissed, making Dany jump as he ferociously whipped around to face her, but he backed off when their eyes met. The look he gave her was full of pleading. 

“I don’t know,” she whispered helplessly, gazing down at the small egg. No human in over a hundred years had hatched a dragon egg except for Dany, but even she didn’t know what to do for an egg born of ice instead of heat.  _ I barely knew what I was doing the first time _ .

She looked to Jon, who shook his head, his sad eyes quickly averting from the egg every time it crossed into his line of vision. Impulsively, Dany knelt down and wove her arm through the icicles to place a hand on the egg. It felt cold and hard through her glove, like any other stone out in the north. She shivered, suddenly feeling how frozen it was again after forgetting in the midst of their findings.

Drogon had leaned his head over her shoulder, cocking it to eye the egg closely and then retreating when nothing happened. His scales already looked dull again - whether it was from no fire or despair, Dany did not know. She could imagine being only more hopeless herself if it was Rose in this situation instead of the egg.

_ Rose _ . Dany looked from the egg to the ice dragon to Drogon to the Scarlet curled up with its sibling, breathing little wisps of steam. Only one thing could bring color and warmth to the hatchlings of a crystalline dragon.

“Jon,” Dany murmured, motioning him over.

“Is it hatching?” he asked eagerly, kneeling down beside her.

Dany shook her head. “No...but I have an idea. Just listen first, okay?”

Raising his eyebrow, Jon nodded for her to continue. 

“Rose has brown hair and purple eyes,” she said.

Jon blinked. “That’s a fact, not an idea,” he replied.

“No, I mean, she’s a mix of us! If we had another child they may look different. Why can’t the same be true of dragons? If an ice dragon’s the mother and Drogon’s the father - ”

“Maybe what hatches some won’t hatch the others,” Jon finished, nodding but furrowing his brow, “And what if we’re wrong?”

She looked to the egg and its concerned parents switching between watching the Scarlet and Violet, and their unhatched child. “It can’t be any worse than right now,” she said grimly, “If we take it to warmer weather and it doesn’t change, nothing changes, but if it  _ brightens _ …”

“Dany,” Jon started, his face serious, “We live in a wooden house. We didn’t even know ice dragons existed until today. And the last time you hatched a dragon was in a funeral pyre and you didn’t even know what you were doing. I know you want to help, but - ”

“We need to bring the egg back with us,” Dany told him, stopping his sentence short. Although he made a lot of sense, she once again felt a compelling need settling deep in her stomach. “Please, Jon, just let me  _ try _ . What if this was Rose? We  _ have _ to do this.” She turned to the dragons before Jon could answer and reached back down towards the small egg with both hands.

_ Please understand, _ she willed them as she brought the egg out of the nest and into her arms. If dragons could look bewildered, they both would have and for a split second, Dany was sure the ice dragon was going to freeze her to a point where even Jon’s fire could not help. Then, the dragon blinked her blue eyes slowly and dipped her head to Dany’s arms, nudging her unhatched egg one final time. Cold wafted off of her crystal scales, but Dany noticed that she stopped shivering again, as had Jon. She was beginning to feel a cold tiredness creep into her mind, as if she could curl up in the nest and just stay there forever.

They had to leave. 

Jon knew it too, standing up and pulling Dany up with him. Her heart wrenched as she realized that Drogon had made no move to leave with them, but simply eyed Dany.  _ We have to protect our families _ , she thought,  _ but why does that mean I can’t protect you? _

Jon squeezed her arm tight, signaling her to leave. Both mother and son looked down at the egg cradled in Dany’s arms and Dany took one last gaze around at Drogon, his new family, and the now empty nest. Unable to bring herself to do any more than jerk a nod at Drogon, knowing she may never leave if she touched him again, Dany turned to follow Jon

Her throat had begun constricting from more than the cold as they headed out of the cave and into the forest again. The grey clouds had begun to lighten, and the trees no longer swayed with the weight of the wind.

Dany looked over her shoulder as they left, spotting Drogon still at the mouth of the cave watching them leave. 

“May we meet again, my son,” she murmured, holding the egg close as they began the journey home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how late this update came - my office decided to go watch the US vs. France game and I wasn't able to do any revisions until late (WHAT A GAME THOUGH!).
> 
> Anyways. So, this is the final chapter of Book 1: Shadow. I'm having a serious struggle writing dragon characters as they all seem to turn into over-large lizard dogs (now I see why we were banned from writing animal stories in undergrad). If anyone has constructive suggestions, I'm all ears!
> 
> There will be a hiatus that should end in about two weeks. The next Book will be bringing some loose ends together and adding some more as well as we see Jon & Dany continue life in the North, attempt to hatch this egg (their grandchild?), and maybe see some old faces again and maybe meet a couple new faces too. I'm also considering exploring Willa more in depth because I kind of developed a backstory for her in the writing process and it seems like you guys like her a lot.
> 
> See you in two weeks!


	24. Heading Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's me! Let's see what Jon and Dany are up to, shall we?

**Book II: Candor**

_ “If I look back I am lost.” _

The warmth of the southern Haunted Forest had never been more appreciated by anyone, perhaps in twelve thousand years, than in this very moment. Dany turned her face to the weak afternoon sunlight peeking in from between the weirwood leaves and pine needles, enjoying the feeling of her nose, her hands, and her toes being comfortably cool. And the actual  _ feeling _ of them as opposed to a stinging presence in place of her limbs.

If one ventured above the valley that Dany was currently sitting in, the Fist of the First Men could be seen in the south, a little way off to the right. And, while it was invisible underneath the thick forest trees, the Antler River was only a day or two’s walk south as well. 

As of now, however, Dany could see neither of those features. She was situated on furs, currently stoking a fire that she had started earlier, mildly lost in her thoughts. There was no wind to speak of, so her fire was burning quite merrily. Beside her lay two satchels, a carving knife, and the wooden toy she had been making. It was distinctively wolf-shaped, and she was currently working on the details in the wolf’s face before tackling her worst fear: the paws, which she had struggled with on past animal and potato figurines. 

Rustling pine needles signaled Jon’s return and Dany looked around to see him come through the trees, a rabbit slung over his shoulder. 

“Biggest one I’ve seen in awhile!” Jon declared, showing off the rabbit and grinning.

“It looks good,” Dany replied, “And just in time. I’ve been getting tired of frozen bread for meals.”

It had been a week since she and Jon left the Mammoth’s Head, and Drogon with his new family, behind. Though not nearly as bitter as the journey up, the exhaustion of nearly freezing to death had made their pace slower and more arduous than before. Both were tired and hungry, having not been able to catch anything until this rabbit, instead only catching glimpses of slim, brown bodies disappearing down snow-holes each time they tried.

They had been subsisting off of bread and some hard cheese that had been rationed to last them a month’s journey. Unfortunately, like everything else that got near an ice dragon, their food had been frozen stiff and stayed that way even as the air gradually warmed. Dany’s jaw had still not recovered from chewing her last meal. 

Jon settled down next to her, immediately beginning to prepare his catch. 

Turning to her left, Dany checked in the lumpier of the two satchels.  _ No change _ , she thought as she peeked in to where their precious charge lay still. Drogon’s silver and gold egg still had none of the brilliance of its two clutchmates. Its only sign of mystic came from the knowledge that inside it was a dragon. Otherwise, it was still as dull as when Dany had first spied it in the nest and, to one who had no clue what they were looking at, it was simply a pretty rock. 

So far, bringing it to warmer weather had done nothing to change it from lifelessness, but Dany was afraid to do any more than let it sit near the fire and enjoy the weak rays of the sun. Although it did not seem to feel any enjoyment the way she did about the returning warmth as they traveled further south.

“Nothing?” Jon asked, glancing at the egg that continued to hold Dany’s gaze. 

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think it’s changed at all. Maybe...maybe it’s just not supposed to hatch,” Dany said, adding the second thought on in a fit of hopelessness. 

“You don’t know that yet, Dany.”

“But, Jon,” she said, turning to him, “I don’t even know how dragon eggs are  _ supposed _ to hatch. Not all of them could have been walked into a blazing fire - could they?”

“Could they?” he echoed unhelpfully.  

Downtrodden, Dany shook her head again, eyes moving to actively avoid the egg by fixing on the skinned rabbit. She picked at a stray cuticle. “I...I don’t really know,” she admitted, “I mean, I know about the Targaryens and Old Valyria and dragons, but not that much - not about how dragons are hatched. I only know Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes’ names. And I didn’t have a maester to teach me anything else...only Viserys.”

Jon frowned as he continued work on the rabbit. “Neither do I. Maester Luwin didn’t ever mention anything about dragon breeding but I do know some of the other dragons like Dreamfyre, Silverwing, and Vermithor,” he told her, counting each of the dragons on his fingers before waggling a fourth, seemingly trying to think of another.

“Did you know,” Jon started, changing the subject from dragon names when he couldn’t come up with a fourth, “that Targaryens had a tradition of putting dragon eggs in their babies’ cradles? It started with King Jahaerys and Queen Alysanne - he rode Vermithor and she rode Silverwing. I really liked hearing about them, they were good rulers according to Maester Luwin and Old Nan. Anyway, it was a good sign if the eggs in cradles hatched later, but sometimes a bad omen if they didn’t.”

Dany raised one eyebrow, sneaking a look at the dragon egg. “I didn’t know that. I mean, I know Jahaerys and Alysanne from Viserys’ stories, but not about the egg. Although, they didn’t hatch  _ because _ they were placed in the cradle, did they?”

Shrugging, Jon replied, “Probably not. Otherwise why would only some hatch? And why did the eggs all stop hatching eventually?”

“Ugh!” Dany groaned, a sudden wave of frustration taking over, “More questions! If you ask me, it seems like dragon hatching is all up to chance and that my children just  _ happened _ to hatch in a fire and the Scarlet and Violet  _ happened _ to hatch in a frost blast. Maybe this one will hatch if we chuck it in the river.”

“Some eggs just don’t hatch, Dany,” Jon said reasonably (irritatingly, if you asked Dany).

“But this one could! And what if I do the wrong thing and ruin its chances? How do we know what’s good for it?”

Jon held his hands up, tinged with rabbit. “It’s only been a week,” he told her soothingly, “If you make yourself stressed, you won’t be able to think straight and help the egg. You can do it, you just need some time.”

He turned back to the rabbit, while Dany broodingly stoked the fire again. One of the branches popped and hissed, cracking down the middle. 

What good was it to have worn the title “Mother of Dragons” proudly if she couldn’t even figure out how to help Drogon and Saphira’s (as she now called the ice dragon) egg? A small voice awoke in the back of her mind to respond to the question. _Ah, but you left all that behind, didn’t you?_ _Amongst the free folk, you’re just Dany._ That didn’t make sense, though, Dany reasoned. 

If leaving her titles behind meant leaving everything else behind, Drogon should have eaten her and Jon as soon as he saw them. Instead, he and Saphira let them leave with the egg and the unspoken promise to help their third hatchling come into the world. 

Perhaps the continual exposure to Saphira’s icy blasts over all three eggs was making the third egg’s recovery from the cold take a long time. After all, Dany was certain that she and Jon would have been dead if they had stayed much longer. Saphira seemed to have radiated cold, but her frosty breath to hatch the eggs was definitely the cause of the horrible, unnatural even for the northern North drop in temperature they had experienced. Dany hoped that the eggs hatching meant that the cold Saphira had caused would abate for Drogon’s sake. And if a full-grown dragon had gotten sick from that much cold exposure, what about a defenseless egg that was half fire and half ice and did not seem to like the frost like its siblings?

_ The egg’s not dead _ , Dany reminded herself firmly. Of that much she was certain, whether or not Jon was. When she held it, in the quiet moments she stole alone to hold it close to her and will life into it shell, there was something more than cold stone there. A faint feeling - so faint that Dany often believed she imagined it to make herself happier - that life was inside. 

“You’ll be okay,” she would whisper to the egg each time she felt its life, “It will all be okay.”

“...and then we’ll make our way back next to the Antler,” Jon was saying. Enough time had passed while Dany was lost in her thoughts that Jon was now slowly fitting the rabbit onto a makeshift spit for roasting over the fire. He had already erected two standing sticks for which to prop the spit on.

“Dany, are you even listening?”

She snapped her eyes up from a random spot they had focused upon to look at Jon. “Hmm, what? Oh, yes, I’m hungry too,” she agreed absently.

Jon raised his eyebrows disapprovingly. “I was talking about the rest of the journey home,” he told her, “But yes, supper will be started soon enough.”

“Oh,” she said, blushing, “Sorry. I’m just - ”

“Worrying about the egg still?” Jon guessed.

Sheepishly, she nodded and Jon reached out and put a comforting free hand on her knee, drawing his thumb back and forth over it. “Yes,” she admitted, taking his hand and looking into his eyes apologetically. Unconsciously, she licked her lips. They had healed from the cracked and bleeding mess that had possibly drawn a shadowcat to camp the last time they were in the southern forest, but Dany had not been able to fully break her licking habit. 

Jon’s eyes traveled down to her lips, drawn to the action, and his thumb stopped moving over her knee. 

“Sorry,” she said again quietly. 

Swallowing hard, Dany became very aware that they were comfortably alone in the wilderness, no longer so cold that they couldn’t think, and Jon suddenly seemed much closer to her than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hiatus over! In recent news, I really love Cheerwine and got to drink it on vacation, which was awesome, and the US WON THE WORLD CUP! 
> 
> Anyways, Book 2 is called "Candor." Look up the definitions for a couple hints about what this book could be about. The quote in the beginning is from book Dany and I just liked it for her current situation. The name Saphira is a teeny tiny nod to a series of dragon books from my childhood. I'll be trying to update daily once again and we'll go from there. Please enjoy and welcome back!


	25. Spark

He was mere inches away before her spoke. “You don’t need to be sorry, Dany,” he murmured. 

Both she and Jon were breathing very shallowly now. Neither looked directly at one another, but Dany could almost feel the sudden change in the air between the two of them. They seemed drawn closer together by some invisible, ever-tightening string pulling for them to stop being apart. 

Giving in to the tension, Dany closed the gap.

Warmth flooded her as she tasted Jon, and the rabbit lay forgotten to the side as she pulled him down onto the furs and her.

Layers of clothing pressed on each other as she brought her hands up to cup his face, holding him to her as their lips danced together. Quietly, Dany moaned into his mouth, moving her hands downwards to tug on his overclothes. 

“Mm,” Jon said, breaking this kiss, “Dany, it’s too cold.”

Not listening, she reached up to kiss him again, pulling his face back down to her. For a moment, he responded in kind, his tongue instinctively coming to part her lips and ask for entrance before he stopped again. 

“ _ Jon _ ,” she whined, trying to continue to no avail before opening her eyes frustratedly to pout at him. 

He swallowed before answering. “Believe me, I want to,” he said, “And-and I would, but just because you can feel your toes doesn’t mean it’s warm enough to be naked. Or even partially naked.”

“You started it,” she accused, narrowing her eyes. 

“Aye,” he agreed, “And I promise I won’t keep you waiting long. Just until your lips stop turning purple at night.” He kissed her chastely once more before rolling off and reaching for the rabbit.

Huffing a slightly dramatic sigh which Jon acknowledged by turning around to roll his eyes, Dany sat up on the furs, straightening herself out from their too-brief jaunt. Stomach growling, her mouth watered at the anticipation of the delicious smell of meat cooking. She realized how hungry she was as she watched Jon begin to prepare their meal over the fire

“Can you pass me that other knife in the satchel?” Jon asked her, not turning from his work.

“Sure,” she said, getting up from the furs to find the satchels. As she knelt down to rummage for the knife, a glint of silver caught the corner of her eye. It wasn’t the knife, but a curious blink that Dany thought, for a moment, was the sun. 

_ But it’s cloudy _ , she thought, looking up overhead. The sun had become hidden by soft gray clouds. They shone with the light behind them, but it was not enough to make something reflective. 

Turning slightly to find where the glint had come from, she saw only the egg laying dull in the second satchel. Perhaps it had just been her imagination. Or some snow had fallen from a treetop. Or Longclaw had -

Dany gasped as it happened again. So brief, if she had blinked she would have missed it. “Jon! Jon look at this!”

Appearing so fast at her side he could have leapt there, Jon took Dany’s arm. “What’s wrong?” he asked her, alarmed. 

“It happened! It was so quick, I could have missed it. But look. It did - it...well,I don’t know what it did,” she babbled.

“Dany, what are you -  ” Jon cut off in a gasp, mixing with Dany’s. 

The egg, which had looked dull and lifeless seconds before, briefly pulsed in a radiance like its clutchmates. It was quick, sparkling silver and gold with a kind of light that seemed to come from inside rather than a reflection. Then it was gone again. 

“Did it just…?” Jon trailed off.

Dany nodded, grinning and grasping his hand. “It’s alive,” she breathed.

~

“Does it come in different colors besides these?”

Dany gestured at the sky, where winding lights cascaded over the stars in pink, blue, and a color like the southern seas. She and Jon were laying on the furs outside of the overhang where they had made camp for the night - hopefully their last night as they planned to make it back to Shadowedge tomorrow. Their fire crackled cheerily behind them, keeping the place where they would eventually sleep warm. 

“One time I saw a whole rainbow of colors while we were in the Frostfangs,” Jon replied, “There were more colors than I had names for. Yellows, greens, pinks, blues, and that red color you like so much.”

“Vermillion,” she told him, “That would be a sight. It can really be all those colors?”

Jon nodded. “Aye. Only sometimes, though. It changes all the time. Like you and I have seen blue sometimes but not others.”

“Why don’t we see it in Shadowedge as often?” She thought of how much fun it would be to share this with Rose. A wonder of the land they could have together instead of Dany and Jon telling Rose stories about it like they did and would do with so many other places.

“That may be a question better suited to Willa.”

Dany didn’t answer, instead continuing to look at the lights. They seemed to ripple like water on the sky, lazily waving at everything below them. Although enjoyable, the warmth that had been continuing to bloom within the last few days suddenly seemed to have evaporated. 

It must have been noticeable, because Jon turned his head from the lights to look at Dany, who reluctantly returned the gaze. 

“You’re going to have to talk to her tomorrow, you know,” he told her.

“We left things on such bad terms, I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t particularly want to speak to me.”

“Dany,” Jon started, sitting up and pulling her with him. He took her hands in his and continued, “Even though you made that choice and not all of us agreed with it, you turned out to be right.”

He gestured behind them, where they both knew the egg lay in the satchel close to the fire. It had pulsed a few more times since they first noticed its change. None of the pulses were particularly strong, but with each one, Dany felt a tug on her heart that Drogon’s last egg was indeed alive. 

“Without you,” Jon explained, “that egg would be dead and frozen, lying in the Mammoth’s Head forever. And Drogon could have been with it if we hadn’t been there. You would have never forgiven yourself if you had left it at ‘what if?’ and just stopped dreaming of Drogon.”

“I still feel selfish,” she muttered.

Jon gripped her hands harder. “You have two children. One of them needed you more in the moment and you had to make that choice, even if it didn’t seem any more right than staying. Because you did it, now you still have two children and they still have their mother. Or...do you have two and a half. Two and a grandchild?”

Despite herself, Dany smiled at his weak humor attempt. “Does that make you a grandfather already?” 

They both laughed and Dany found the sudden cold ebbing into a small nip. Facing Willa was still on her mind, but it had to come regardless, and Jon was right. If she hadn’t gone, both the egg and Drogon may have been lost for good. Now Rose had a chance to meet him one day, instead of hearing only stories of the long-lost dragons of old.

“Thank you,” she said, bringing a hand up to stroke his cheek. 

Jon took his own hand to hold hers against him. “I love you, Dany,” he said, “You and our whole family.”

Dany smiled as she drew her other hand up to bring his face closer and kiss him, trying to put the words she couldn’t seem to articulate into her action. She moved to wrap her arms around Jon and pull herself into his lap as she felt him encircle her waist. His hands quickly found their way underneath her outer layer to splay across her back, sending tingles down her spine. 

“Not too cold this time?” she teased, taking his bottom lip playfully between her teeth.

“Hmm,” was his only response. Once she had released his lip, Jon moved to work down her neck, adding in a few nips in between the laving tongue.

Dany allowed herself a moment to revel in the pleasure Jon caused as he sucked gently at his favorite spot on her neck just underneath her jaw before bringing her hands to his shoulders and pushing him down onto the furs. She went down with him, still straddling his lap and moving her hips quietly against him as she brought their lips together again.

Into her mouth, Jon moaned, his hand stuttering over her back as Dany added a harder roll of her hips. She smiled into the kiss, shifting to eagerly rid herself of her trousers and lifting up to allow Jon to do the same before settling down again, flesh pricked from chill and anticipation of the next feeling. 

Her already wet center brushed lightly over him and she felt Jon twitch beneath her, his body stiffening and his eyes opening to look at the woman astride him. Jon’s hands fell to her hips, gripping underneath her clothes, as she rose up slightly again and brought his member to her entrance.

Gently, she guided herself onto him as both shuddered pleasurably at the feeling of Jon sliding inside. Dany felt her walls stretch welcomingly as she filled herself. 

“ _ Dany _ ,” Jon breathed as he became buried deep within her. He rose up, sitting, and held Dany close as she started to move in his lap slowly, creating delirious sensations where they had joined and beginning to moan quietly.

Her eyes closed and she dipped her head into Jon’s neck as she continued to gently rise and fall, savoring each slow stroke on him and relishing as he held her tighter still and she reciprocated. One arm wrapped around her back while the other tangled in her loose hair, pulling at it with each new movement she made. 

Their breathing labored as both became more undone. Dany’s rhythm turned choppy and stuttering as she began to tighten around him, making Jon grunt and grip her hair more firmly. 

Slipping one hand between them, Dany found her own core, stretching a finger down to caress herself. “ _ Oh _ ,” she cried, body going rigid.

Her eyes opened and she found that Jon’s had as well. Gray locked on violet as they moved together, now more desperate than savoring, and Dany continued to touch herself.

“Close,” she gasped, bringing herself down on him harder and circling her clit more vigorously. 

“Don’t stop,” Jon told her, the hand at her back tugging her closer. Holding his gaze, she moved harder against him, taking in as much of his length as she could. It felt as though Jon was pulsing inside of her. His hand released from her hair and he took her hips, holding her steady as he thrust as deep as he could. 

Dany watched as his eyes widened, still locked with hers. Jon moaned as he came, spilling himself and filling Dany as he clung to her. Her fingers circled more over her clit, sending her over the edge as well, clenching around a still-twitching Jon and holding him close as she shook with pleasure. 

Collapsing onto the furs, they continued to tremble together, every small movement making them shudder and hold each other closer. Their foreheads pressed against one another as the lovers slowly came down from their highs. They lay for a long time wrapped together, unable to do more than breathe and stare.

Smiling as she was able to regain a semblance of thought past carnal need, Dany brought a hand to Jon’s cheek, stroking it with her thumb. “I love you, too,” she murmured, kissing him again. 

Jon laughed into the kiss. “Was all of that to say ‘I love you?’” he quipped. 

“Are you complaining?” she asked huskily, rolling her hips where they were still pressed against each other and making Jon’s breath hitch, his eyes closing involuntarily and his fingers on her back pressing in against her. 

He did not have a chance to answer as Dany pulled him in for another searing kiss, intent on saying “I love you” again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shamelessly fluffy chapter, but also: IT'S ALIIIIIVE! 
> 
> So, if anyone's seen the tv show "The Dragon Prince" that's where the vague idea about a glowing egg came from and how it signaled life. I'm going to make it my own a little more (as well as take a mildly non-canon approach to dragons and dragon eggs in general), but that's a good visual reference point.


	26. The Return

“If you wring your hands any harder, they’ll fall off,” Jon told Dany as they trekked alongside the Antler. They had recently passed by their home on the way into Shadowedge and the knowledge of their impending reunion with Rose, Willa, and Tormund had dropped on Dany like the weight of another thousand dragon eggs. 

The sole dragon egg in her possession also seemed to have grown heavier as Dany tried to imagine how she was to tell Willa and Tormund what she had brought back from their journey or her plans for it. The egg continued to become brilliant at seemingly random occasions, sometimes several times in a few minutes before a stretch of no life signs for hours at a time. But Dany couldn’t decide which would have been better to tell her friends: that she brought back an egg that she couldn’t save thereby rendering her journey half pointless (except for finding Drogon, who decided not to come back with her) or that she had saved an egg that may hatch into a very large dragon one day and potentially freeze or raze all of Shadowedge depending on which parent it took after. She tried not to think about the latter part, given that there was no certainty the egg would ever hatch.

“You know you never did that before we left Dragonstone,” Jon was saying as they crunched along over the frosted ground, joining up with the well-beaten path into the village. Thin trails of smoke were becoming visible in the sky and footprints were becoming more present along the path, most pointed in the direction of Shadowedge.

“Did what?” Dany asked absently, looking at her feet moving one in front of the other.

Her heart was beating very roughly as her surroundings became more and more familiar. She wished it was from anticipation of seeing her daughter, but all she could feel was dread. Dread that Rose would cry at the sight of her, viewing her as a stranger now. Dread that Willa would still not even look at her like the day she had left. Dread that everything in the pocket of the world she had come to love had changed in the past month. 

“Show anything other than steel nerves. Even when you were angry, if you didn’t speak people could barely tell,” he said, gesturing to her hands, still wringing. 

“I would much prefer to be planning a war right now,” Dany responded testily, “At least I was pretty certain of myself back then.”

Jon broke apart Dany’s grip on herself, taking one of her hands and gently squeezing it. “Just breathe,” he said.

The sun was falling from its high overhead, highlighting the first houses that came into view as Jon and Dany reached the edge of the forest.  _ Please let us go unnoticed _ , Dany begged. She had no idea how much Willa and Tormund had detailed about their absence to the other villagers and was cursing that Willa’s house  _ had _ to be situated in the center of Shadowedge. 

“Come on,” Jon said, pulling Dany to the south edge of the village and slipping into the alley between two houses on the outer row. It was as if he read her mind about not being recognized and they slipped deftly around the houses and the few people that were out, finally coming to the last row before the village center and Willa’s home.

As Dany spied the front of her friend’s house, she noticed that Willa was unusually not working outside at the little table. Panic overtook her:  _ Is something wrong? Is it Rose? Did they leave? _ But movement in Willa’s window caught her eye and she shook off the irrational thoughts.  _ Just breathe _ , she told herself, repeating Jon’s advice. The breath didn’t seem to agree, catching in her chest.

The two walked up to Willa’s door and, as they got close, Dany could hear raised voices coming from inside.

“You can’t just go out there alone!” she heard Willa snap angrily. Dany imagined her friend’s face red and hardset at the sound of her tone.

“For all the gods, woman, what do you think I’ve been doing the past year before I came here?”

“Even you didn’t go into anything  _ that _ cold, Tormund! You heard those nomads. Nobody in cold like that could have come out alive. I can’t have you going out there too when Jon and Dany are already - ” Willa’s voice broke off with a choking sound and Dany could not hear anything more than muffled steps across the floor.

_ Did Willa think they were dead? _ Dany’s stomach twisted shamefully. She knew Jon was right, that she had left for the Mammoth’s Head for a good reason and had made a choice that wasn’t necessarily wrong, but staying would not have been wrong either, given the pain she seemed to have caused. Her breathing was still getting stuck in her chest.

She glanced at Jon, who looked as troubled as she felt, and motioned with her head to suggest knocking. Still frowning, he nodded, and rapped four times on the front door. Dany heard shuffling inside before the door opened and a blotchy face peeked out from inside and looked straight at Jon, absolute bewilderment dawning on her face.

Willa screamed and slammed the door in Jon’s face. Dumbstruck, he stood there for a minute before knocking again. 

This time, Tormund opened the door wide. He glanced gruffly from Jon to Dany at his side, so reminiscent of their meeting at the entrance to Castle Black. Then his face split into a broad grin and he spread his arms. 

“You two really enjoy showing up after everyone thinks your dead,” he told them casually.

“We’re still not ghosts,” Jon told him, smiling and taking Tormund’s hand. The red man pulled Jon in for a hug, thumping him on the back.

Before they could release, Dany had slipped past them and into Willa’s house. Her friend stood virtually in the center of the floor, golden eyes wide with shock. They were glassy as her face was blotchy and Dany was sure she had been crying moments ago. As Dany walked closer, Willa took an automatic step backwards, as if not sure that Dany was actually real. 

“I thought you had died,” she whispered to Dany.

Dany shook her head. “I’m here,” she replied, stepping up to Willa and smiling softly. 

At that, Willa simply fell forward and hugged Dany tightly, body shaking, as Dany wrapped her arms around her friend.

~

Rose still had a penchant for grabbing hair. Her slightly larger hand wove through the ends of Dany’s hair as she sat on her mother’s lap. They were seated at Willa’s inside table with Jon, Tormund, Willa, and Ghost contentedly at Dany’s feet. His tail had stopped its aggressive happy thrashing from when he first saw Jon and Dany again, but the tip was still flicking excitedly.

“So let me get this clear,” Willa said as Dany gently guided Rose’s hand out of her hair, smiling as her daughter held onto her hand, “You met your dragon, gave him some fire because he was sick, and then you followed your dragon, all of you nearly dying of cold, into the nest of an ice dragon that up until a few minutes ago, I thought was only a story for children, only to find that she and your fire dragon had a clutch of eggs together so now there are more dragons in the north because you watched them hatch while nearly dying in the cold?”

After the initial entrance into Willa’s home and seeing a very excited Rose who woke up from her nap to Dany and Jon and immediately grinned, reaching out for Dany, the talk had turned to the recounting of their journey over a warm stag stew. It was deliciously welcome, as Dany could not remember the last time she had tasted something so warm and filling. Even after roasting food over a fire on their journey, the meat grew cold within seconds of removing it from the flame.

Whatever had been going on before they had come in, Willa and Tormund regained their composure and pressed Jon and Dany intently for the full story of how they seemingly returned from certain, icy death. They had finally gotten to the part in their story where they met Saphira and her eggs, having had plenty of interruptions and questions from their bewildered but enthralled audience along the way.

“Yes,” Dany replied, Jon nodding along with her. Both of them stared like Dany had just sprouted wings from her ears.

“And then you...turned around and came home?”

Still smiling from the enjoyment of being with Rose again, Dany’s face fell at this. Everything had gone much more smoothly than Dany had expected: Rose hadn’t forgotten her, Willa hadn’t entirely branded her as horrible (though she was still fairly cold), none of them were dead or gone; it seemed as if not much had changed.  _ Except for this _ , Dany thought, heart beginning to race again. She glanced at Jon, who nodded encouragingly, and then turned back to Willa and Tormund across the table, passing Rose to her father.

“Well, there was one other thing,” Dany said, bending down to grab her satchel.

On the table, she rested the still closed satchel and watched as Willa raised a perplexed eyebrow. “Remember how we said that only  _ two _ of the three eggs from Drogon and Saphira’s clutch hatched?”

She opened the satchel. Willa gasped, staring at the silver and gold egg inside with incredulity, her open mouth unable to form any words.

“You brought back the egg?” Tormund exclaimed in amazement, looking forward eagerly and reaching out a hand to it, but never touching the scaly, hard surface.  _ Trust Tormund to be nothing but excited _ , Dany thought with some relief. 

“We couldn’t just leave it there,” Jon explained, “It was dying in the cold.”

“How can you tell it’s not dead now?” Willa asked. Her initial surprise seemed to have subsided for curiosity and she, too, leaned in for a closer look. Scrunching her eyes in scrutiny, she peered from one end of it to the other, studying the pattern of the scaly exterior like Dany had so many times. 

Suddenly, the egg flashed brilliantly for a brief second and both Willa and Tormund flew back, looking even more shocked than when Dany had revealed the egg.

“It does that sometimes,” she said simply, “It started happening after we got out of the worst of the cold. We think it just needed to warm up.”

Willa cocked an eyebrow at her. “And what happens when it gets warm enough?” she asked pointedly, eyes narrowing. 

“I couldn’t just let it die,” Dany told her, her voice echoing with the finality she attributed to giving people orders. Willa opened her mouth, but seemed to think better of responding and closed it again. It seemed as though she didn’t want to argue any more just yet, and Dany was perfectly happy to leave the discussion of the egg at an unspoken disagreement for now.

Truthfully, Willa had a point. Dany had not gotten much further in planning than wanting to help the dragon in the egg. If Drogon and Saphira were any indication, a hatchling dragon of theirs would soon grow to be enormous, dangerous, and very conspicuous. When her children had hatched, word traveled quickly about dragons in the East. Dany wrenchingly remembered when the warlocks stole her dragons in Qarth, having heard much about them before she even arrived. What unwelcome visitors could a hatchling dragon, even more precious with its mythical ice blood, bring to Shadowedge?

In the midst Dany’s thoughts, it seemed that the conversation had turned to the other dragons in the North, as Tormund was currently giving his opinion. “I say we just leave them be for now,” he was saying, “Only the four of us know they’re there and any other idiots who have been that way and glimpsed one like that cunt Moregg sound like they’re talking nonsense. Obviously there’s been an ice dragon around for a long time and nobody’s noticed it yet.”

“Has Moregg been back this way, then?” Jon asked.

Tormund nodded. “Lots of traders and nomads have been coming through recently on their way south to get away from the cold you two decided to risk your necks in. Got a few new villagers out of the mix and loads of people who know where we are now,” he explained, “Been arguing about whether or not to wait it out before coming to look for you. That’s where I was planning on heading today before you decided to show up.”

“What did you tell everyone about where we had gone?” Dany asked.

“Lied, more like,” Willa scoffed, “Told them you were going to try and trade furs for some sheep, but thought Rose was too young to travel. Obviously you’ll have to think of a reason as to why you have no sheep.”

Dany looked down at her hands. The little bubble of hope that perhaps all was being slowly forgiven was quickly deflating. “We never meant to put so much onus on you,” she murmured, unsure of what else to say, “I just...I really needed to do this. I’m sorry.”

A hand reached out for her shoulder, but Dany could tell by the size that it wasn’t Jon’s. She looked up and saw Willa with a much softer expression than before. Perhaps “sorry” was all she needed to hear.

“Just don’t run off like that again, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What would happen if other people found out there were more dragons, hmm?


	27. Silhouettes at Sea

In the month since Jon and Dany had returned from their journey, life regained the steady pace of normalcy that Dany had not realized how much she had missed. Aside from the silver and gold egg that had taken up residence by the fireplace and glowed to remind the other residents it was there, not much had changed. It was calming to her to wake up every morning having a general idea of what would take place. Each day she and Jon went about their respective chores before either heading into the village or working on larger projects at home. Their sheep-less barn had been damaged while they were gone, and both were working to fix it up and now look for sheep in earnest.

After putting Rose to sleep, they would often find each other in bed, the yearning kindled after they had left the Mammoth’s Head still burning and being put into quiet action each night with soft touches, gentle kisses, and whispered words of love into each others’ ears.

The most unpredictable part of life had, in some strange way, become Rose. But the unpredictability was exciting. Rose seemed to be reaching new milestones of her tiny life every day. She could now pull herself up to stand for a few moments, and enjoyed shouting at whoever was closest (usually Ghost) to show off. Whether or not she was over-personifying Rose, Dany thought that her daughter quite liked the attention and could not help but grin each time she saw Rose hollering with delight and standing with two hands on a chair, a shelf, or one of her parents.

Rose had also begun to form a semblance of words in her speech. Her babble had turned much more distinctive. Whenever she started this around Willa, the healer eyed her closely and Dany had come to believe that Rose may have already said her first word, though she did not mind Willa keeping that to herself. 

Though it may not be her true first word, Dany and Jon enjoyed bantering about whether she would say “mama” or “papa” first. She claimed it would be “mama,” but secretly, Dany thought it would be a delight to see Jon’s face if their daughter said “papa” first.

Rose’s personality had also taken a distinctive turn for the bold. Jon said she was becoming quite reminiscent of a young Arya, adventurous and unable to sit still. She was now quite mobile, grasping the concept of crawling and zooming across the floor whenever she could. They already had to keep everything grabbable out of her reach sitting, and now standing and crawling were added into the mix. She definitely knew the word for “no,” given that one or both of her parents said it quite often whenever she tugged too roughly on Ghost’s tail...or anything else. However, all adults still melted at her baby-toothed grin, and Dany found herself having to learn to work on her stern face for her daughter. 

“I know we really want her to walk,” Dany said to Jon late one morning as she turned Rose away from the fireplace where she had been angling to reach, “But if she keeps grabbing anything she can, I’ll begin to have doubts.”

Jon chuckled in response, briefly glancing up from fixing his boots. He, Dany, and Rose were dressed considerably lighter than they would have been a month ago. The passing storm from the north (which Dany was certain had something to do with Saphira) had dissipated and the days had started to become longer and more sunlit. To a Southerner, it was still very cold in comparison to somewhere like Winterfell even, but Dany enjoyed it. Although she sometimes missed the feeling of true heat from the sun on her body, she found that the cold reminded her more and more of home. 

Her dreams no longer took her on an escape to the house with the red door and the lemon tree outside her window. Instead she would find herself inside her and Jon’s little house by the Antler, a wood door they made themselves and a flourishing winter rose bush outside her window. 

“Ready?” Jon asked Dany. She nodded, reaching down and picking up Rose, who had found a spot to sit under the table with a favorite toy: a ladle.

Outside, Ghost greeted his family with a wagging tail, bounding around them happily. His mouth was stained pink, and Dany guessed that he had already had breakfast that morning. 

Jon went over to the lean-to and emerged moments later shouldering furs and some of the tools he had carved recently. They set out as a family on the well-beaten path to Shadowedge. Dany and Jon’s hope was that they could eventually trade goods for a sheep or two when one passed through the village. Jon had settled into a role of both tanner and carpenter, preferring to dabble back and forth as not many free folk were particularly specialized, nor did they need coin and instead preferred to trade goods such as what Jon made. Saphira’s storm had caused an influx of nomads in the area and word traveled quickly about the villages like Shadowedge that provided a few nights’ shelter and good trading.

It was beginning to remind Dany of the Free Cities, although people only came from other parts of the north. There were less tongues exchanged and a less exotic nature of goods and people, but one never knew what they day could bring. Dany was starting to be able to tell where the travelers and nomads were coming from based on their look and dress.

There were those adorned with bone of walrus and seal from the frozen western shores past the Frostfangs. Hornfoots without anything on their leathery black feet. Strange silent free folk with pale eyes and faces dyed odd colors like purple and blue who Jon said lived in caves all over the north. Nightrunners, who were extraordinarily nimble on their feet and wore clothes that made very little sound when they walked. Dany even saw two spearwives riding snow bears once, though they didn’t get much hospitality as everyone keenly avoided the bears.

Another time, several women dressed in sealskin strangely came up and began to pet Dany’s hair, marveling at her in Old Tongue. Willa later explained that they believed she was blessed by the gods of snow and ice because of her silver hair - they wanted to touch the blessing. Thankfully, it hadn’t happened again.

Today, Shadowedge was not quite what Dany considered bustling, but she heard several hagglers jabbering in Old Tongue as she and Jon walked into the village. Dany had not yet gotten the hang of Old Tongue (which was much more harsh sounding than Dothraki in her opinion), but she was learning to discern the tones of voice used in the harsh language. Often, however, she could not tell if people were threatening to kill each other or talking about the weather. The day the women pet her hair, Dany had feared they might be deciding how best to cook her.

Ghost gamboled along, tongue lolling out as he put on his dopiest face for unsuspecting travelers to hand over a piece of food. 

“You already ate!” Jon called cheerfully after his direwolf. On village days, Ghost generally had five breakfasts. 

Jon readjusted the furs slung over his shoulder and Dany did the same with Rose on her hip as they crunched over the icy ground towards the village center.  _ We should just hook Ghost up to a baby dog sled _ , she thought as her arm tingled in protest. 

They found Tormund right by the central fire pit used for gatherings, speaking quickly in Old Tongue to a particularly laden trader, and Willa a few feet away looking on intently with her arms crossed over her chest. As they came up, Tormund threw his hands down, raising his voice slightly. 

“Have they had an argument?” Dany whispered as she went over to Willa, while Jon walked over to Tormund.

Willa moved her head from side to side. “Sort of. Tormund’s trying to trade to use the man’s spyglass, and he’s not being agreeable,” she explained, scoffing, “I mean. He just wants to borrow the damn thing!”

“What about Dorand’s spyglass?” 

“Missing,” Willa told her, “I guess that’s what happens when you barely use something.” The village shared Dorand’s single spyglass - a valuable object in the North - for everyone but it was usually only taken out when they went on larger hunting expeditions to follow herds of deer.

“Why does he need it?” Dany pressed, watching Jon now offering some of his furs to the trader as Tormund translated. Rose fussed, reaching out for Willa from Dany’s arms.

Without paying much attention, Willa took the baby from Dany and settled her into position. Frustrating for Rose, Willa’s beaded hair was tied up today (Willa learned quickly after having Rose as her charge for a month) and she could not reach any of the pretty ornaments.

“A group of people came from the shore cliffs saying they saw boats in the distance. We wanted to get a closer look, you know, just in case. Although it’s probably just Thenns who think they’re too  _ important _ and  _ civilized _ to walk,” she snorted at the last statement. Both Tormund and Willa had a very poor view of Thenns (almost as poor as cannibals), who acted more like Southerners than free folk. Dany had never met a Thenn before, as they did not often come away from their mountain home. Of the free folk ways and clans that had been laid waste to by the Night King and the Army of the Dead, the Thenns had walked away relatively unscathed in comparison to the rest and had gone back to their original home after the war.

Tormund barked something at the trader before turning on his heel and lumbering over to where Willa and Dany stood. His face was red and Dany had no other word for his composure than “tetchy.”

“I need some of your nutmeg,” he hissed to Willa. 

She looked at him aghast. “Do you know how hard that is to come by?” she snarled.

“What? Are you planning on spicing chicken for a fucking lord later?”

Unmoving, Willa crossed her arms harder over her chest and fixed Tormund with a blazing look.

“For the gods, woman, just do it!” he snapped, pointing at her house.

Surprisingly, this made Willa listen and she walked off towards her house with Rose. Dany caught a couple loudly muttered phrases of “oaf” and “lunatic” and “calls me woman,” but Willa still returned a few moments later with a small pouch of nutmeg for Tormund. 

In minutes, the trader left more laden than before with nutmeg and half of Jon’s furs, while Tormund was left holding a bronze spyglass.

“Sorry about the furs,” Tormund grunted to Jon as they walked up to the women. 

Jon shrugged. “No need, no sheep to be seen today anyways. And we’d better have a look at what’s out there.”

“If they are Thenns,” he muttered angrily, “I’ll kill the lot of them before they make it up the cliffs.”

Together, the four of them plus Rose headed out to the cliffs past the eastern end of Shadowedge. Jon and Dany’s curiosity had been piqued as much as Tormund and Willa’s for sightings of any boats on the Shivering Sea were incredibly rare. A few fishermen ventured out on odd occasions, but they never strayed too far from the shore. 

Old Dryn told stories about Tyroshi slavers growing bold enough to invade the north and snatch free folk children in the dead of night. People used to hide whenever their ships were spotted. It was a shameful time for the free folk. 

The slavers were ruthless, not caring if they killed or kidnapped. They had no code of honor, which Dryn proudly pointed out as a difference between the attacked free folk and the slavers. It made them nearly unstoppable, and, in the end, the free folk preferred to run rather than have their clans completely decimated. Even Tormund remembered the slavers from when he was a boy, when the kidnappings began to dwindle. Although he proudly boasted about killing a “Tyroshi cunt” when he was eleven, Dany saw a small flicker of fear cross his eyes whenever he told the story.

They tread carefully along the frosted ground up to the edge of the cliffs. Small footpaths dotted down the cliff faces to the shores below, where the children often went to find seashells or anything else that may have washed ashore. It was windy by the sea and Dany, who had taken over transporting Rose again, hugged her daughter close to shield her from the worst of the biting wind. 

“I don’t see anything from here,” she said loudly to combat with the noisy wind.

“It’d be further out on the horizon,” Tormund told her, fumbling with the spyglass to put it up to his eye. 

For a moment, nobody said anything, three of them scanning the sea while Tormund twiddled and adjusted the trader’s glass. “Ah! Hmm,” he said at last, causing everyone to turn towards him. Tormund fiddled with the glass more and Dany tried to see what he was looking at. If she squinted very hard, it  _ did _ look like a black dot could be a bit above the horizon.  _ Although it could be an iceberg as much as a boat _ , she reasoned. It would be too far out to be a Thenn boat that was skirting down the coast unless the Thenns were very off course. 

“Are they Thenns then?” Jon asked, squinting towards the horizon as well, “They’re very far out if that’s them. Tormund?”

Tormund didn’t answer, seemingly transfixed on the black horizon dot. His mouth had parted slightly as he continued to look through the spyglass. 

“Tormund!” Willa snapped impatiently.

The red man started, uncharacteristically almost dropping the spyglass. Wordlessly, he handed it to Jon and Dany saw a curious look flash on his face. It wasn’t the fear that passed over his eyes when talking about slavers, but Dany would be lying to claim that it wasn’t close. 

She couldn’t see how Jon reacted, but he placed the spyglass onto his eye as well and adjusted it as Tormund had, fixating on the same spot. 

“Oh no,” he croaked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we'll be taking another hiatus... just kidding, I swear. Wonder what's out to sea?
> 
> So, Shadowedge has become a little more of a hub of activity. In my head, I believe there are probably a few other places like it in the North as well, and we've been seeing that free folk culture has definitely shifted towards less warring and more surviving, which is important to note. 
> 
> Rose is somewhere between 9 and 10 months right now. I've been using personal records for a lot of her milestones, so some are probably a little early or late seeing as all kids are different.


	28. Hem and Haw

“How likely is it that if I said you don’t need to know what’s on the horizon, you’d listen?” Jon asked Dany, lowering the spyglass. His face was constipated, as if he did not know how to react to what he had seen. 

“Highly unlikely, bordering on ridiculous,” Dany replied coolly.

Jon sighed, sharing a look with Tormund. “That’s what I thought,” he said.

“What is it?” Willa asked. 

“A ship,” Tormund said gruffly, “Not a boat. Only one but…”

_ A ship? _ Dany felt herself go cold. She was suddenly holding Rose much more tightly as her mind raced. A ship was not any old free folk raft floating adrift on the sea or a Thenn vessel which, even for all the talk of Thenns acting savagely civilized and haughty, Dany knew was not much past crude. A ship sailed with purpose for a destination and knew what it was doing. A ship did not simply wander up to a cliffside that it did not belong at. A ship knew why it was coming to a specific place. It was commissioned. Commanded to places by someone who could build something like a ship to serve their interests outside of one area. 

“What sails did it have?”

“Dany…” Jon started, the way he always did when he didn’t believe she was going to react well. His eyes were wide and cautious and he placed a hand on Dany’s shoulder.

Immediately, she shifted away from him.  _ I need answers, not caution _ , she thought angrily. “What. Sails. Did it have?” she asked again. Her gaze raked from Jon to Tormund and back again. 

Jon sighed again, defeated, before answering. “Direwolf,” he told her, “They’re direwolf sails.” 

_ Brilliant _ .

Taking a deep breath, Dany turned on her heel to leave the cliffs. “Well,” she said, in a voice that did not match how she felt, “At least we know who they’re here for.”

~

The silver and gold egg that sat atop the mantle Jon carved and placed over the fireplace continually drew Dany’s eye. She was sitting at the table in her house with Jon, Willa, and Tormund while Rose napped in her room. It was dull right now, but Dany expected it would flash if she stared at it long enough. Lately, the pulsed glow coming from it had been happening more often and Dany hoped it was because of the egg’s near-continuous warmth overtop the fire. Not much of a nest, but it seemed friendlier than Saphira’s nest below the Mammoth’s Head.  _ Although the Scarlet and Violet seemed to think otherwise _ , Dany absently mused remembering the two new hatchlings. 

It felt warm to the touch now when she placed her hand on it. Not the same warmth that had emitted from Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion’s eggs when she held them, but one of comfort and, hopefully, rejuvenated life.

Though everyone else had been extensively discussing the sudden appearance of a Stark ship seemingly coming to shore, Dany felt unable to keep up in the conversation. Her thoughts drifted to the dragons in the north and in her home, then returned to the looming shadow on their horizon.

_ Why now? What had changed? And how did they even know where to go?  _ Despite being in her house, she felt uncomfortably exposed. Much to her chagrin, nobody else seemed to share the sentiments. Jon sat back in his chair as he listened to Tormund. Willa absently played with one of her many braids, interchanging between looking at Tormund and at the ends of her hair. 

“Best plan would probably be to just wait and see if they even land,” Tormund was saying, elbows on his knees as he leaned forward in his chair, “It’s only one ship. I doubt they’re coming to be hostile.”

Willa nodded in agreement. “Word has been traveling about villages like Shadowedge,” she said wisely, “Perhaps they’ve come to trade, seeing as the free folk and the Southerners are no longer enemies.”

“So you’re saying it’s just a coincidence that a Stark ship shows up where one of the last Starks lives?” Dany asked dubiously.

“There aren’t many other places to go along the coast,” Willa replied, shrugging.

“And how would any Southerners know Dany and I are here?” Jon added, “Most people that have passed through Shadowedge have never met us, we were away for a month.”

The answer to Jon’s question fell on Dany with the full weight of a dragon. How did they know she and Jon were here? In an answer to the thought, her mind flew back to memories of the maester’s quarters at Castle Black, where she and Jon had written letters. Letters that, more than a year ago, Dany had sent off with ravens destined for the South. 

Jon’s words of that night echoed in her head.  _ “To Sam. To explain. Sam will know what to do.” _

“It was you,” Dany whispered, her eyes fixed on a point beyond Jon, but her intent clear.

“Wh-what?” Jon replied incredulously, “ _ Me? _ ” Willa and Tormund were staring at Dany as well.

“ _ You _ wrote the letter to Sam!  _ You _ told him where we were!  _ You _ said he’d know what to do!” Dany blamed. Her voice had raised and she found herself standing, pointing at Jon. Hot anger flushed to her cheeks and not even Jon’s disbelieving and hurt look could stop her. 

Dany looked away from him. “Well I hope you’re happy,” she muttered darkly, “A reunion to look forward to.”

~

She did not speak to anyone for the rest of the day.

Dany lay on her bed in the corner of the house, facing the wall. Blearily, exhausted from the seething anger that had filled her so suddenly, she continually stared at one notch of the wall. In the background, she could hear voices but did not focus on what they were saying. Soon after she had taken up her position on the bed, the voices dwindled and the only sound left was Jon’s steps around the house.

A few times, Dany thought she heard him walk over to the bed and stop right next to her, but she never turned around and he never said anything. Instead, he turned around and walked off again. 

After a while, the sounds of an awake Rose and Ghost joined Jon’s sounds. In the back of her mind, Dany knew that she should be up. She should be helping with Rose and being a mother instead of a petulant child in the midst of a silent tantrum about something that couldn’t change now. But how could she face Jon with what he’d done?

_ And then our life came crashing down _ , she thought angrily. That was it, wasn’t it? They had run all the way from Dragonstone to beyond the Wall to build a life for themselves away from the Southern scheming and houses and titles and now they would be faced with the consequences. 

Since when did the Starks ever trade with the free folk? Willa had been reaching when she suggested that.  _ He should have never sent that letter at Castle Black _ . The thought made her pause: When had Tormund told them about Shadowedge? But before Dany could think any further, the notch melted from view as her eyes closed.

“Dany?” a quiet voice called, pulling Dany out of slumber. As she opened her eyes, Dany found that the house had fallen into the gloamy light of dusk. She figured she must have turned over in her sleep, for she could see Jon’s face staring down over her.

He looked tired, his eyes glazed and his hair disheveled. “Can I sit down?” he asked.

Dany nodded slowly, shifting over to make more room for him. 

“How’s Rose?” Dany asked, voice cracking with the poor attempt to make small conversation. The thoughts she’d had before falling asleep rushed back to her, and Dany felt like a horrible fool for what she had said.

“Fine,” Jon said, “She ate and I put her down to sleep easily. Ghost’s in there with her. I brought you food.” 

He offered her a bowl of stew, still warm, and Dany sat up to take it from him. “Thanks,” she said, to which Jon nodded. He didn’t quite look at Dany, instead focusing on the furs. She could see, even in the dusky light, that he was chewing at the inside of his lips, on the verge of speaking.

“Jon, I - ” 

“Dany, I - ”

She smirked slightly at their simultaneous speech. “Go ahead,” she told him.

“I know you’re angry with me, but- ”

“I’m not - ”

“Hold on, let me finish,” Jon told her, “I didn’t tell Sam where we were settling. I didn’t even tell him that we were at Castle Black. I  _ did _ say that we were with the free folk for the time being, but nothing else. Not even that it was permanent. All I did was explain what had happened and why we had left. Said that they could choose what to do next, that it wasn’t my choice or your choice anymore, and that we weren’t coming back. And I told him that he could choose what to do with the letter. That’s all. Believe me, Dany, I’m no happier about seeing that ship than you are. I swear I didn’t lead  _ anyone _ here.”

His eyes bore directly into hers with his final words, as if promising beyond absolute doubt that he was being truthful.  _ He doesn’t need to _ , Dany thought shamefully.

“I know, Jon,” she admitted quietly, taking his hand. He cocked an eyebrow at this, but returned her gesture with a squeeze of his hand around hers.

Dany continued, “I know it wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry. I was just so caught up in what was happening, I looked for someone to blame and...it was you. 

“I know you didn’t tell Sam.  _ We _ didn’t even know we were going to Shadowedge until well after we had gotten beyond the Wall. I was just lashing out. I’m just so angry and... _ scared _ . We left all this behind! Even if it turns out to just be a coincidence that a ship with Stark banners is coming ashore, what a horrid trick of the gods! I never thought past leaving all of Westeros behind and never seeing anyone again. What if I can’t face whoever comes off that ship?”

She thought of Ser Davos, who was nothing but kind only to have the two people he’d sworn to follow leave in the dead of night without a word. Of Ser Brienne, a knight Dany had great respect for, who would consider it the highest treason to become a deserter. Of Arya, Jon’s favorite sister whom he had left without a word to for Dany. And of Sansa, whom Dany wanted dead the last time she thought of her. 

All people whom she had betrayed, left behind, or acted the tyrant towards. Even wishing death upon them, sowing more violence rather than trying to end it.  _ I don’t miss that feeling _ , Dany thought, a sick feeling of disgust rising in her throat like bile as she remembered the Daenerys Targaryen of recent past.

“You  _ can _ face whoever comes off that ship,” Jon said, “You’re not trying to conquer anyone. Just sharing the land like the gods intended. If anyone had any ill feelings towards you now, they’ll have to forget them. We’re not here to kneel or politick anymore. We share what we have with travelers and help people to live, nothing more than that.”

Dany smiled slightly at Jon’s inclusion of free folk culture. She found herself agreeing wholeheartedly with everything he said. It was something she would defend with conviction, and the thought comforted her. For once, people were coming into Dany’s home instead of the other way around. For once, she was not a feared outsider, but a loved neighbor with her people.

“Thanks,” she said to Jon, “And I really am sorry for being so awful to you.”

“Aye, well, it’s in the past. Forgiven,” he told her, leaning down and kissing her hair, “Finish your stew and we’ll get to sleep.”

Dany did as she was told. The stew was lukewarm by the time she began eating it, but it was welcome nonetheless. Though her mind still buzzed with a cloud of stress, she felt more peaceful than before, and tried to lose herself in the rhythmic circles Jon’s hand was making on her back. She was not sure when she finally fell asleep, but knew that she had felt the circles continually rubbed on her back until she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always seen Dany as a two-sided figure: Someone who can act extremely rashly and foolishly in the moment, but who is also capable of recognizing her faults and learning from them. I hope I convey that we've started to see that with her being afraid, but accepting, that she needs to confront pieces of her past as they've come up because she realizes she was in the wrong multiple times and is able to view that from an outside perspective. 
> 
> Also, take notice that we begin to see a more patriotic (I feel like there's a better word but can't think of it...) side of Jon and Dany for their home. 
> 
> I'm feeling quite professorial today and this chapter was interesting to write and now dissect a bit.


	29. Stark Arrival

A tiny hand was touching Dany’s cheek repeatedly. 

“Mamamama mamama,” Rose babbled. Dany blinked her eyes open to see a happy baby face staring down at her. For a brief, sleepy second, Dany wondered how Rose had gotten out of her bed and onto Dany’s stomach before she saw Jon sitting on the side of the bed.

“Good morning, Rosie,” Dany cooed, smiling and reaching her hands out from the furs to gently tickle Rose’s tummy. Rose giggled, grasping at Dany’s hands as she was tickled. 

As the giggles quieted down, Jon lifted Rose away so that Dany could sit up. “Good morning,” Dany said to him, leaning in and stealing a small kiss from him over Rose’s head. 

“Good morning,” Jon replied, “I think you’re going to win.”

“Win what?”

“There were a lot of ‘mama’s’ in that speech,” he told her.

He and Dany both laughed, with Rose copying her parents and joining in.  _ Growing up so much already _ , Dany thought excitedly, though with a touch of sorrow. She was beginning to understand what the village women meant when they said they wished their children could be small once more. 

“I wouldn’t count yourself out just yet,” she replied, “I’ve been hearing a lot of ‘papa’s’ when she tries to avoid napping.”

“I haven’t heard that at all.”

“That’s because you mysteriously disappear whenever it’s time for a nap,” Dany said with a pointed look. 

Slightly reddening in the face, Jon cleared his throat quickly changed the subject. “I’ve made some porridge. Figured it would be better if we went into the village earlier this morning,” he said, handing Rose to Dany and getting up from the bed to go over to the fire. 

Dany noted that he was already dressed. With a jolt of surprise, she saw what sat on his left hip

“You’re wearing your sword,” she remarked.

“You’d better eat while it’s hot,” Jon said as he came back over to the bed with a bowl of porridge, “Then get ready and we can go. I can finish up with Rose.”

Dany looked at him. “Jon,” she said sharply, “Why are you wearing your sword?”

“It doesn’t - ”

“Yes. Yes it does matter,” she told him, “What happened to ‘share what we have?’”

Unless they were traveling, Jon had not worn his sword since before Rose was born. Of course he still had a dagger on him (“You’d be a fucking fool not to have something to defend yourself with,” Tormund had once said), Dany always did as well, hidden in her boot. But both of them kept the daggers habitually rather than with the intent of using them. 

When he did not answer her, Dany pressed more. “Do you think something changes just because you can whip your sword out? We’re not looking for a - ”

“Dany!” Jon snapped through his teeth. Rose startled and looked up at her father. Noticing this, Jon softened considerably and, pressing the porridge into Dany’s hands, added, “Just leave it, okay?”

Biting her lip, Dany refrained from saying anymore. She tried to eat the porridge, but the few bites she managed went down like splinters and tasted about the same. The happiness she had felt at waking up to Rose this morning and having her family together, and the lack of anxiety about the impending arrival of the ship seemed far away, replaced with a stomach of lead.

If Jon thought he needed to wear a sword to meet the people coming off that ship, what should she expect from the rest of the day?

~

The walk into Shadowedge was virtually silent save for the sound of ice under boots and Rose’s occasional babbling from Dany’s arms. Now very aware of her surroundings, Rose loved to point out anything that moved on their walks and generally accompanied it by happy shouting. 

Usually, Dany entertained these moments by asking, “What’s that, Rosie?” and reacting to whatever it was that was being pointed at. Today, however, she barely took her eyes off the path in front of her.

Jon was silent as well. He alternated between holding his body completely rigid while he walked and putting one hand on Longclaw. Dany kept glancing at him sideways, but each time she saw him turn his head even slightly she looked straight ahead again. Whether or not he was actually trying to catch her eye, Dany did not know, for she never gave enough time for him to notice her staring. 

It was a relief ,and an added feeling of dread, for Shadowedge to come into view.  _ At least Willa will want to talk _ , Dany thought. 

Outside of her house, Willa was sitting at the table going about her morning herb sorting routine. She looked up as Jon and Dany approached. 

“Why are you wearing your sword?” Willa asked immediately. 

Grimacing, Jon nodded at her and turned around to stalk off, leaving Dany and Rose behind without a word.

“Why is he wearing his sword?” Willa asked again as Dany sat down. 

“I have no idea. What’s the news?” She got straight to the point, and Willa delivered. Dany guessed she had already been prepared for the question. 

“Tormund and I got up early and went out to the cliffs. They’re definitely coming here, should be close enough to come ashore soon. Couldn’t see anyone particular on the ship itself. Nasty current out there - I think a storm’s coming,” she replied, “We got the news around to the rest of the villagers that there might be some Southerners coming in to town today. But  _ I _ didn’t make it out to be as hostile as Jon seems to think.”

Dany let out a large sigh. “He’ll do what he thinks is best,” she said, ending the conversation, “Can I help?”

Wordlessly, Willa nodded and passed over a few strong-smelling pouches to Dany. One by one, Dany carefully emptied the pouches onto the table and began sorting through them as Willa had once taught her. Any leaves or bits that had become dry beyond use or moldy were removed to preserve the rest. After finishing sorting, Willa would take inventory of what she had left, what she could afford to trade if needed, and what she needed to trade or forage for. 

It was methodic work, and while some could have called it dull, Dany found that it was easy to get lost in the rhythm of it.  _ Dry, good, good, good, dry, good _ , she thought as she sifted through a pile of lavender which Willa got from inside her home. The scent, Dany remembered from her own experience, was good for relieving stress. It seemed to work even now, for she became absorbed enough that her anxieties about the approaching Stark ship settled in the back of her mind for a while. Rose sat on the table near Willa, as she usually did, playing with her favorite braided toy and babbling to herself.

“And very little nutmeg,” Willa said bitterly as she finished up the last pouch. 

“I was surprised you gave it up so easily,” Dany remarked, sweeping away the discarded herbs from the table. 

Will grunted. “It’s fine, I suppose. Tormund was right, it’s not like I was planning on spicing meat -  _ don’t _ tell him I said that,” she added at the end, wincing as she realized what had been said aloud.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dany assured, smirking. 

For a moment, they sat at the table, saying nothing else and watching Rose still engrossed in her play. In the absence of having something to do, Dany begun to feel an odd dichotomy swirling in her head. It felt like any normal day in the village: sorting herbs with Willa, Rose playing on the table, another day slightly warmer than the last. And yet so much more was expected to happen.

Jon was wearing Longclaw, a ship with Stark banners was floating off their coast, and the air throughout the village seemed to crackle with anxious anticipation. Word had obviously traveled quickly, and Dany kept catching glimpses of villagers stopping their work to look towards the east. None of the children were playing in their rowdy gang or pestering Dany for stories. Even Ghost looked tense underneath the table.  _ What if this turns out to be absolutely nothing? _ Dany thought wildly. It was an absurd hope, but she wished it was true.

“Are we going to be greeting them by the cliffs or waiting for them to enter the village?” Willa asked, breaking Dany from her thoughts. The pouches of herbs and spices had been packed away inside their box.

“I thought you and Tormund would have decided that,” Dany replied, confused. 

“I thought you and Jon would have.”

“They can come in here like anyone else,” Tormund’s voice sounded as he came up to the table, Jon at his side, “We’re not looking to fight or treat them any different. What they do with that is there business.” 

At this, he gave Jon a pointed look. Dany quickly noticed that Longclaw was no longer on his hip, and he looked rather like someone who had just been scolded. She tried to catch his eye sympathetically, but Jon was determinedly looking at somewhere meant to be Rose, but not quite focused.

Just then, one of the younger village men, Birger, came running from the east. He only stopped once he reached Willa’s table. Other villagers peered curiously at what was taking place, making no move to hide their eavesdropping. 

Out of breath, Birger took a moment before speaking to Tormund. “You said,” he panted, “To say - when they came. They landed - and - they’re coming - now.” 

“Did you talk to them?” Willa asked. 

Birger shook his head and swallowed, regaining more of his breath. “They didn’t see - me. I ran before they could. But I heard them. I recognized the one that was talking from Winterfell. He said they needed to be careful when asking to speak to the clan chief because they didn’t know which clan lived in the village.”

“Who was he?” Jon pressed sharply. 

“The little man,” Birger answered, “The little man that came with Dany to Winterfell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but we need those every once in a while. So, Tyrion's come to Shadowedge. Wonder who's joining him? (The title could be a double-entendre...without the risqué implications)
> 
> The next chapter is looking like it will either be over 4000 words long or split into two as we're about to cover a lot of ground. If anyone feels particularly strongly, let me know! I'm really torn about it right now.
> 
> For anyone in the US heatwave this weekend - stay cool and just think of Saphira and the Mammoth's Head!


	30. Tyrion's Tale

Dany could hear them before she saw them. Several pairs of boots crossing over the light snow that had fallen overnight through the town. Surprisingly, it did not sound as if that many people had come ashore, but she did not know how many were on the ship either and doubted that many of the regular crew would have made the first journey.

Most of the villagers who were around had come closer to Willa’s house to see what was to take place. For all the discussion about treating them like everyone else, nobody was about to not look on as Southerners came into the village. Dany had taken Rose from the table and into her arms. Whether or not she and Jon were currently speaking, she took up the more comfortable position of standing with her back to him and he brought his hands onto her shoulders.

_ So Tyrion came on a Stark vessel _ , Dany thought,  _ sounds like there’s a story in there _ . 

The disembarked members from the Stark ship became visible moments later. Immediately, Dany recognized Tyrion amongst the dozen or so people. After which, she saw Ser Brienne with Podrick next to her, the marked red hair of Sansa Stark (Jon’s hands gripped her shoulders tighter) and, surprisingly, Gendry Baratheon. 

She vaguely remembered the other men who had come from her time at Winterfell, but could not remember any specific names or houses. To Dany now, that time felt like a complete whirlwind of ice and death. Jon, on their journey, had taught her the dozens of names of Northern houses, but she had no faces to put the names like Hornwood, Dustin, and Tallhart too.  _ Had those houses survived? _ In her quest for the throne, Dany had never remembered to find out.

Soon, the small group had stopped before the congregation of Shadowedge villagers. Dany scanned over them, avoiding catching Tyrion’s eye, before settling on Sansa. The redheaded woman’s eyes widened at the sight of Jon; she looked surprisingly shocked and unsettled.

Briefly, Willa looked around at her cohorts before addressing the group. “Welcome to Shadowedge,” she said, “We’ve been expec - ”

“Jon!” Sansa exclaimed, the shock evident in her voice as well. She looked from him, to Dany, confusedly to Rose, and then back at Jon. He obviously heard, but Jon remained tight-lipped behind Dany, although his hands were now on the verge of crushing her shoulders. 

“As I was saying,” Willa continued while Dany shifted uncomfortably under Jon’s grip to get him to loosen it, “We’ve been expecting you since we saw your ship yesterday. I hope you didn’t have too much trouble mooring.”

Dany shifted her shoulders again, dislodging Rose slightly and making the baby begin to fuss. Although it did what was intended and Jon released his grip, Rose started making frustrated noises and fidgeting in Dany’s arms. Though she didn’t cry often anymore, being moved from comfortable spots was one of Rose’s least favorite things and Dany could see the meltdown brewing.

She did not have a chance to hear more of the conversation, but began whispering softly to Rose and attempting not to draw even more attention to them. “It’s okay, Rosie. Mama just needed to move a little. It’s okay  _ enta _ , you just settle right back in. Mama’s still got you,” she murmured, bouncing her ever so slightly. The meltdown appeared to have been averted as Rose settled down in Dany’s arms again.

“Sorry,” Jon whispered almost inaudibly, “Is she okay?”

Dany nodded, refocusing, but the strange exchange of pleasantries seemed to have broken up.

“Come on,” Jon said, placing a gentle hand on the small of her back, “We’re meeting at Willa’s.”

It was as if her nightmare from the night Rose was born had begun to come true. Except Dany did not want to talk to Willa about goats, and only a piece of who could have been at the Great Council was there. 

Willa had offered the Southerners a place to make up camp near the west edge of Shadowedge, right off the path Jon and Dany took home. While the dozen or so Northmen had gone to pitch camp or back to their moored ship to bring supplies and other people, Tyrion, Brienne, Gendry, and Sansa were now standing awkwardly in the healer’s home.

They were staring around the modest one room home, taking in the eccentric sights that Dany had become accustomed to. Most of Willa’s home was taken up by baskets (both woven and incomplete) growing an abundance of plants; a small table consistently strewn with herbs, barks, spices, and instruments; and a bed (feather, courtesy of Dany). She had a small fireplace as well, and a ladder in the center of the room that made walking around the home slightly annoying. Up the ladder was Willa’s loft where she kept most of her drying herbs and an array of other odd things she had collected as payment for her trade. In particular, Dany enjoyed the collection of beads and fasteners Willa had up there, which sometimes made their way into her hair. She had offered repeatedly to put them in Dany’s as well, but so far Dany had been resistant to the idea.

“Your Grace,” Tyrion greeted as those inside caught sight of Dany. She heard chokes of laughter from both Tormund and Willa and was sure they were only thinking one word: “ _ kneelers _ .”

It felt strange to be addressed in this way, even uncomfortable, but Dany quickly figured it wasn’t worth fussing yet and instead extended a similar greeting. “My Lord,” she replied. She could feel Willa’s eyes roll behind her.

“Is this…?” Tyrion trailed off as his hand extended towards Rose.

“Our daughter,” Jon answered as he came up behind Dany. 

The receipt of this information ranged from surprise, to shock, to acceptance, and lastly to Brienne, who simply knit her eyebrows together a little more tightly. Dany did not know Brienne of Tarth particularly well, but expected that very little reaction from her probably meant better news than if the information had phased her.

Sansa, who was looking the most shocked, spoke first. She did not sound cold and hard the way she had when last Dany had heard her speak, instead she sounded...there wasn’t a particular word for it. Her voice had the brittle quality of cracked ice and her look of shakenness carried into it as well. “Jon,” she asked, “How are you here?”

“You  _ knew _ I was here,” Jon told her.

Sansa shook her head. “We thought you had died,” she said.

“But, you - ”

“Wait,” Willa butt in, cutting across Jon, “Aren’t you  _ here _ for Jon? If you thought he was dead, why did any of you come north in the first place? Wasn’t it cold enough for you in the South?”

“Actually,” Tyrion answered before Sansa could do more than open her mouth, “We came to speak to…”

He trailed off again, but had gestured at Dany.  _ At this point, I don’t know what to call myself in this situation either _ , she briefly thought sympathetically towards her former Hand. She found herself matching Brienne’s face of serious expression and knit eyebrows at the insinuation. Why would anyone, particularly Sansa, be coming to speak from the South with her?

“Why do you need to speak to Dany?” Willa asked defensively, not giving anyone else time to respond. 

Tyrion did not answer her, instead turning to Dany and taking a couple steps forward. He looked up, his scarred face grim. “We need your help,” he said to her, “all of us.”

“I think you’d better start from the beginning,” Dany replied.

~

In a word, the Seven Kingdoms had become a stage of bedlam.

“The beginning,” as it turned out, started on the night that Jon and Dany had disappeared into the darkness off the shores of Dragonstone.

The search for the missing Queen and the King in the North that ensued stretched through the night. Although the first thought from many of the Unsullied and the Dothraki after the fruitless effort had been that Jon kidnapped Dany, they were able to be pacified by a combination of Tyrion and Davos’s efforts. 

“We knew two things by the end of the search,” Tyrion explained, “Or at least we thought that we did. We knew that the Queen would have never left willingly without her dragon. And we knew that Jon was too honorable to have participated in kidnapping. So we turned to the next option.”

“So you did think Cersei had us initially,” Dany said to him, “And that’s why you started the siege.”

“You know about the siege?” Brienne asked, speaking for the first time. 

Jon shrugged. “Only that there was one. We heard it from a traveler in the Vale. And that King’s Landing was destroyed from the inside by wildfire. We heard that before we left Sisterton. After that, the only news we found out was that you were taking part in the Great Council at the Citadel. We went past the Wall the next day.” The coldness in his voice was gone, replaced by the interest that Dany felt as well. They were finally going to know the full story of what happened after they left.  _ And the full damage, _ Dany thought darkly. Rose shifted in her arms again and it seemed to push the thought away. Whatever had happened, Rose had come from the choices she and Jon made that night.  _ You are not a coward to trust your choices. _

The interest in Jon’s hints as to his and Dany’s travels was palpable, but Tyrion remained undeterred. “That is why we started the siege,” he said, launching back into his story.

They began only sieging the land side of King’s Landing, and sent a messenger to arrange a parley between Cersei and Tyrion, who had taken on the commanding role in Dany’s place. It was simple: release the King and Queen without harm and the city would be spared. They planned to backup the threat, as a message had been sent to Yara Greyjoy informing her of what had happened and asking her to bring her forces down to meet what was left of the combined naval power that had survived Euron Greyjoy’s attack. Dornish forces were also called upon to come up and bolster the siege.

The messenger’s head was returned. 

To the forces outside King’s Landing, this confirmed their suspicions: somehow, some impossible way, Jon and Dany had been taken by agents of Cersei and were imprisoned in King’s Landing. 

“Looking back,” Tyrion said, “It doesn’t seem as plausible. But with Drogon still at Dragonstone, we didn’t think either of you had left willingly.”

Guilt pierced Dany’s stomach, but she pushed it away. “How did you get from half a siege to King’s Landing being destroyed?” she asked.

Time. Tyrion explained that it took a month for the other forces to join up with the main siege. In that span of time, they had continued to just sit and wait at the edge of the city. Once every few days, they sent a message asking for the release of the King and Queen, but each message went unanswered. 

It was at this point that Tyrion began to wonder if Cersei truly did not have them. After the flashy performance she had put on with Missandei, why did she suddenly stay holed up in the Red Keep? She had an obvious advantage, and yet never moved against them.

When the Iron Fleet arrived, the real planning began. Because all land access was cut off, the sea was the only way to travel or ferry in new supplies. Instead of a true siege, which most believed would be crushed by Euron Greyjoy, Yara began using sneaking attacks against the ships escorted by the Lannister, Greyjoy, and Golden Company forces. 

Thinking they had complete control of the sea, the outgoing ships were considerably vulnerable. And, patiently, Yara and the rest of the ships began to pick them off. By sheer luck or simply because they knew what they were fighting for, it worked and their forces suffered very minimal damage as they sunk ship after ship after ship. 

They worked in pairs, stationed all over the bay and just outside of it. A few times, enemy ships went out with the specific purpose of mounting an attack, and the fleet would outrun them and then melt away. As the attacking ships turned around without victory, another pair from Yara’s fleet were always ready to meet them, and as Cersei’s forces tried to return, they too were destroyed. It nearly became more treacherous just for ships to attempt crossing out of Blackwater Bay because of the number of sunken ships than for the risk of being attacked by Yara.

“Nothing else seemed to change though,” Tyrion said, eyes unfocused as he remembered the events, “The Dornish joined up with us and we just stayed there waiting. It would have been suicide to attempt to enter the city and we were still hoping that eventually the smallfolk would get hungry enough to revolt. Until that morning.”

It had started like any other morning in the two months of the siege. The commanding lords gathered together to discuss any developments, particularly news from the bay, and if anything had changed. Just as they were finishing, the ground shook underneath them. 

They ran out of the meeting tent to find soldiers gaping at the remnants of what had been a sudden green blast. King’s Landing was beginning to smoke. Immediately upon this recognition, more blasts shook them. Green flames licked through the city as those outside could only stand and watch in horror. Screams began to resound, heard even outside on the siege line. 

Davos was the first to find his voice. “Get the people out!” he had shouted, “They’ll burn alive!”

Soldiers jumped into action, everyone ran in different directions. Men mounted their horses to ride to the other parts of the siege and relay Davos’s call. The gates of the city wall burst open in moments as hundreds upon hundreds began running out, trampling over the confused guards who did not know whether to run or stay at their post as the city burned in ruin. 

More blasts went off throughout the city, blowing huge chunks of stone and blazing flames every way. The outside forces scrambled to gain control of the crowd and stop a stampede. Others had ridden and began driving carts to Blackwater Rush to fill buckets and canteens with water under the guidance of their commanders. 

Meanwhile, those closer to the bay had been fleeing in fishing boats and scrambling to get onto any vessel they could. The smallfolk overran the ships’ crews, forcing ships to disembark with no plan in mind. Blackwater Bay was becoming overrun, and the guerilla fleet, which had seen the discharges of wildfire, made the decision to head into the bay to save any people they could 

The crowds became reasonably controlled until the survivors of the detonation zones began emerging. People badly burnt, and some still on fire, dispersed into the crowds. They set others ablaze as they ran, starting new fires and causing panic ensue. 

“Let them pass!” was the call echoed on all sides as chaos began to take hold again. The hope of gaining back any control disappeared, replaced with the stench of burning flesh and the blood-curdling screams of five hundred thousand people.

Those who had water tried to douse the people still on fire and help them, but there were too many as more and more burning people spread throughout the crowd. 

Still more explosions of wildfire came from within the city as the siege forces began a disorganized retreat, unable to do much more than run to save themselves from the carnage. It was during this retreat that the final explosion of wildfire went off and Tyrion, along with so many others, turned to witness the destruction of the Red Keep, virtually incinerated in a cloud of flame and dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twenty-three chapters later, here's the other side of the story. I ended up splitting the chapter up, as there was a natural break and 5000 words just seemed enormous for this kind of writing.
> 
> This is actually my first foray into writing really heavy material (Ever. Most of my non-fanfic stories are extremely light-hearted.) so I hope I did it some justice as the idea of what happened in the Seven Kingdoms has been in my head since the beginning.
> 
> The next chapter will explain more, and hopefully the next few chapters will answer a lot of the questions you all have had and that you may have with the end of this one.


	31. Deconstruction

“The last person who came out of the city alive was Arya Stark,” Tyrion said to the still, silent room. In the midst of the story, Rose had fallen asleep, oblivious to the horrors being spelled out to everyone. Quietly, Willa had taken her and placed her on the bed, where she now slept with Ghost.

Jon stiffened behind Dany at the mention of his beloved sister’s name. _Why hasn’t she come then?_ Dany wonderered. Surely Arya would have been a much more willing participant on this voyage than Sansa. 

Even Sansa, however, was staring at Tyrion with rapt attention. She had nodded briefly at Arya’s name. How many times had they heard the story of the siege? It still seemed to hold them all in shocked silence, even after two years. Dany felt sick as Tyrion had described the burning flesh, the screaming mob, and the horrible visions of abject chaos. It was strange to think that during this time, she and Jon had been on their way to Sisterton, completely oblivious as to what else had been going on in the world and wrinkling their noses at the strange pirate nest that smelled of fish and drunkards.

“Did you ever figure out what had happened?” Dany asked.

Tyrion spoke solemnly. “I have my suspicions, but no. There is nobody living who knows what happened. It was nearly a week before we could get anywhere near there again.”

The air around King’s Landing was thick and putrid. Haze hung over the land and, even in winter, some might have described it as humid. When the fires had finally settled, parts of the armies made their way back to survey the carnage and search for any survivors.

There were none. 

Many of the people who went back, after walking even just a little into King’s Landing, had to stop and turn around. Almost all of them became ill from the smell and the sight of mangled and dessicated bodies. Men, women, and children indiscriminately lay amongst the dead. 

People these days discussed what was worse when remembering the time after the Raze of King’s Landing: the land or the bay. 

Blackwater Bay was overrun with disfigured bodies in the water. People had leapt from cliffs or dove into the water to save themselves from the burning. Their broken bodies floated or were suspended all through the bay, dotting shipwrecks where ships had crashed into one another in a panic and sank. The drowned souls met with the burned ones, creating a sick garden of destruction over the water.

Unable to do much more than look on at the sight horrified, they decided to leave King’s Landing be and not subject the living to see any more of what had happened there.

“Then we had the Great Council,” Tyrion continued, “To try and make sense of everything. And to move forward.”

Every noble house in the Seven Kingdoms was invited to attend the Great Council at Oldtown. In the history of the Seven Kingdoms, there had only ever been three Great Councils. Two decided succession to the Iron Throne and one decided regents of the throne.

The fourth, as it turned out, did not do either.

Almost every still-existing noble house sent at least one member to the council. Some only had one member left to send. 

Deliberations went on for several days as they listened to every claimant to the throne, every idea of what to do now that King’s Landing was destroyed, every plan to settle the hundreds of thousands of refugees, and every argument that broke out between houses. The Tyrells were gone - who would rule over Highgarden and the Reach? House Gardner? House Redwyne? House Tarly had been greatly weakened so it certainly wouldn’t be them. Ser Bronn of the Blackwater had been promised Highgarden by Tyrion, but none of the Lords of the Reach wanted him to have that seat either. 

And who was the successor to the Iron Throne? Was it Gendry Baratheon, the bastard son named by Daenerys Targaryen, who had never been recognized as Queen by everyone? Should it fall to Tyrion Lannister, who was the last surviving Lannister heir? Surely nobody wanted another Lannister on any throne. The Westerlands did not even want the House back at Casterly Rock. And yet who else could claim that they were fit to be King?

The refugees were another story. In the chaos of the destruction of King’s Landing, they had fled far and wide across Westeros. Unfortunately, like with everything else it seemed, the Great Council was not able to answer the question of what to do with the refugees either. Each region was told to decide independently what to do. In other words, “Just figure something out.”

Then there was the matter of the Seven Kingdoms themselves. Nearly as soon as they started, Sansa Stark and her envoy made it very clear that the North did not want to be a part of anything new. 

“The North has suffered too much under the thumb of others,” Sansa had said, declaring independence to the approval of her fellow Northerners and the sour-faced looks of others.

Sour or not, however, Dorne and the Iron Islands soon followed suit. 

Fractured, the Seven Kingdoms left the Great Council with no clear direction, now reduced to four. Unable to unite with each other, or even unite amongst themselves, the four soon were reduced to the independent kingdoms from the time before Aegon the Conquerer. 

Wars upon civil wars broke out. United, the North was relatively free from the conflict that ensued in the other regions, but had become a haven for some escaping the bloodshed. Gendry, for instance, fled there after his first introduction into trying to instate his rule at Storm’s End as the last member of House Baratheon ended with several drawn swords, a swinging warhammer, and a lucky escape into the night (“I should have known better,” Gendry added to this point).

Dorne had become a hotbed of claimants fighting both each other and the Houses of the Reach, attempting to seize more land. Tyrion did not even dare to go near the Westerlands, and had also been staying in the North. The Riverlands, though still united under Edmure Tully, fought houses of the Westerlands to prevent them from taking land and, at the same time, fought the Reach and the Crownlands for similar reasons. The Vale supported the Riverlands and traded with the North, but had otherwise closed off entirely, still intact with Robin Arryn leading, although their numbers had dwindled just as the North’s had. They used their relatively secure borders as defense, knowing that they may not be able to survive a true invasion.

News traveled further as the Seven Kingdoms came apart more and more, bathing the lands in blood and losing any sense of unity to barbaric lust for power. Soon, the Essosi began to look towards the west.

“It began about a year ago,” Tyrion said, “At first we just heard bits of smallfolk news that had traveled through the Riverlands and the Vale. Possible, but unlikely. But then we heard more. And now…”

“Are people invading?” Jon asked.

“Worse,” Brienne replied quietly, her eyebrows knitting even further together, “They’re enslaving.”

Apparently it started with Dorne, Tyrion said. Essosi slavers began to come in small numbers and snatch the Dornish away. Exhausted from the constant warfare and unable to unite with other Dornish houses, they could barely defend themselves. Then larger numbers came, and slowly, they made their way up the coast. 

Fighting amongst themselves, the independent houses in every region could not come together to fend off the much more rested slavers, and the raids only worsened. Instead of inspiring unity, however, it seemed to divide them more. Unsatisfied with their supply, the slavers had turned their eyes more northward as they grew bolder.

Jon shook his head. “But _you_ aren’t fighting with yourselves,” he reasoned, “Why is this the North’s concern? You _are_ united. You can defend yourselves!”

Sansa gave one note of a mirthless laugh. “How many people are left in the North and the Vale, Jon? Have you really forgotten?” she asked, “What strength do we have left to defend ourselves? The only reason we have had enough food this winter is because so many of us are dead. The only reason nobody has tried to take our land is because the Riverlands are in the way. We still have a coast, though. House Manderly has suffered the most so far. The people who were not kidnapped from Ramsgate have all left, as have those at Widow’s Watch. Even without invasions from our neighbors, we’re losing land. And people.”

The decision was made a few months ago to begin the removal of every Northerner from the eastern coast, pulling them inwards and away from the slaver’s grasp. Although they would lose their resources from the Shivering Sea, Sansa and her council had deemed the people much more important. And they still had the Sunset Sea and the Bay of Ice. Until the slavers came from that direction too. 

“It’s like we’ve become prisoners within our own borders,” Sansa likened, “We can’t fish. We’ve lost so many of our cities. Our efforts should be about rebuilding and looking towards the North’s future. Instead we’ve spent so much time shrinking where our people are and combing the coast to evacuate everyone. And yet people are still kidnapped. Now that the coasts are free, they’re mooring their ships and coming into the land and we can’t muster enough force to defend ourselves. 

“We declared Northern independence to end the bloodshed, and yet now we have even more. The people the slavers don’t want are killed and left for dead. There’s barely been a few days without another report of death or signs of enslavement. I - I don’t know if we can survive this. Which is why we came....”

She reddened at the statement, looking down at her hands. The room stayed silent. Dany had never seen Sansa as anything but collected and confident. Even at her most brazen (and Dany remembered that quite well), Sansa was nothing if not calm. Now, she looked truly shaken. Her words seemed to invoke similar feelings in the others. Tormund, who had been uncharacteristically quiet the entire time, looked deeply troubled as well. Though she did not turn around, Dany was sure Jon looked the same. 

_Would this have happened if we had stayed?_ Dany wondered if Jon was thinking the same thing. Could they have prevented these horrors and bloodshed if they had not run away? _Yes_ , she thought, _but there would have been different horrors to contend with_. Disgust reared in her stomach for what could have been and what currently was.

All her life, Dany had grown up around slavery. She had seen, firsthand, the horrors that it brought upon innocent people. There was nothing more loathsome, more awful.   

And yet it had always seemed to be a foreign concept in Westeros. She knew that Jorah had once sold people and been sentenced to death for it. That was how he came to her. But, otherwise, when had the Westerosi of the Seven Kingdoms ever experienced slavery? It was horrifying to see it, even though she had seen it almost every day of her life before trying to end it all. What must it be like to see the consequences of slavery for the first time?

Rose crying broke Dany’s thoughts and seemed to jolt everyone else back into the present as well. The meltdown that had been averted earlier seemed to be upon them. 

Cursing herself for getting so engrossed and allowing Rose to sleep so long, Dany jumped up and skirted between Sansa and Brienne to reach her daughter. “ _Kesīr, issa tala_ ,” Dany murmured, lifting Rose up from the bed, “ _Muñnykeā iksos kesīr_.”

“It’s late,” Jon said to the others with a look out Willa’s window, as Dany returned to his side with Rose mildly pacified.

“But - ” Sansa started, looking from Tyrion to Dany.

“No,” Tyrion agreed, “He’s right. We’ve caught you up. You know why we’re here. We can discuss it more tomorrow.” 

Willa moved towards the door to her home. “Your camp is west of here,” she reminded the rising people, “Shouldn’t be too hard to find.” 

As they began to file out, Willa said nothing to Jon and Dany, but fixed Dany with a complex look that somehow matched how she was feeling. Her head was reeling under all the information that had now begun to sink in, and Dany had no idea how she was supposed to walk home tonight and act like nothing had happened. A quick glance at Jon before he led the way out told her that he was feeling the same. His jaw was set most uncomfortably and he was holding his shoulders so stiffly that Dany thought they might snap under the pressure.

Unfortunately, the camp was in the same direction as home, and it was by far one of the most awkward walks Dany had ever been a part of. She had gotten separated from Jon, who was leading, and somehow ended up walking in the back next to Gendry. 

“How old is she then?” Gendry asked, nodding to Rose in Dany’s arms.

“Her first nameday is in less than two months,” Dany replied disconnectedly as she watched Sansa fruitlessly try to speak to Jon. Before the third attempt, Brienne put her hand gently on Sansa’s shoulder to stop it.

“The perfect combination,” Gendry was saying. 

Dany turned to regard him. “Sorry, combination of what?”

“Her parents. She looks just like the two of you,” he told her, pausing before adding more, “I’m glad you two were able to leave together. And have her. That you seem...happy.”

Gendry smiled awkwardly before looking away and Dany wondered if he thought he had said too much out of place. They were at the foot of the small camp now. A few fires had been lit between the erected tents.

Despite her head still reeling, she returned Gendry’s smile. “Thank you,” she said gently, “And...I’m sorry, Gendry. For what’s happened. With everything, but also with you. I...know what it’s like not to have a home.”

Although he did not answer, Gendry nodded and gave Dany and Rose a small parting smile. He followed the others into camp, while Dany caught up to Jon to continue on the path towards home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief headcount, just so we know where we are: Yara, Arya, Davos, Sam, and Bran are alive. Plus the characters we've seen in the story. Jamie is not. Cersei is not. I decided to keep the canon storyline of Jamie leaving Brienne to go back with Cersei, although I don't necessarily agree with it narratively. Let me know if I missed anyone you're curious about.
> 
> We're, in some ways, going back to basics with Dany. With some surprises along the way.


	32. Helping Hands

“What if we just stayed here all day?” Jon asked. His quiet voice roused Dany to open her eyes into the breaking dawn light. She had not been sleeping, but lost in the closed-eyed thoughts that one had in the middle of the night. There was no use to keeping your eyes open if you could not see anything. 

Rolling over in Jon’s arms to face him, she stretched before answering him, reminding them that they were naked as the change of skin contact pricked their flesh. “Mmm,” she said mellowly, “Then Rose would go hungry and so would I. And you would have to face those consequences.”

She smiled, reaching up to place a kiss on his lips before settling with her head on his bare chest. A contented hum rumbled from him and Jon brought his hand down to stroke Dany’s silver hair, which seemed to glow like that last of moonlight.

Neither of them had slept very much after getting home from the fraught meeting of their past. It had been strange, almost animalistic, Dany thought, to find that as soon as Rose had been put down for the night she wanted nothing more than Jon. They had spent the night wrapped together, making love slowly and taking comfort in the pleasure of each others’ bodies while speaking very little. 

She supposed they had slept at some point, for Dany believed she was missing a few hours of time. But each block of missing time was bookended with memories of needing Jon more and again. Some of the memories still lingered on her skin: where he had held her tightly to his chest, where he worshipped her breasts, and where his hands had splayed across her buttocks to pull himself deeper inside of her. Dany smiled to herself, sure that he had similar memories to feel as well.

_ It’s familiar _ , she thought in answer to her earlier idea. After the day of hearing about events so foreign, so hurtful, all they needed was familiarity in the end. True comfort, and something entirely and intoxicatingly real. 

For a while, as the light in the little house became stronger, she lay comfortably on Jon, lost in the rhythmic stroking of his hand over her hair. But hearing Ghost stir in Rose’s room roused Dany once more. 

“She’ll be awake soon,” she murmured to Jon.

“Let her tell us when to go up,” he replied, pulling her closer. 

This time, however, Dany shifted away, sitting up to stretch. “We have to finish doing things here early, anyway,” she said, “We need to go back into Shadowedge.”

Jon scoffed, shooting Dany a derisive look. She responded with a stern look of her own. “ _ You _ need to speak with Sansa,” she told him, “The way you treated her yesterday even made me uncomfortable.”

“You do remember what she did, don’t you?” Jon asked hotly. 

“Do you remember what  _ I _ did? What I was planning to do?” Dany countered, “I remember what happened very well. But I also see, now more clearly than ever, how much Sansa was - is - looking out for the North. This is the present, Jon. Everything else is in the past. If we dredge up old conflicts, how can we ever hope to move forward?”

Jon regarded her with narrow, gray eyes. “I can’t promise anything,” he said to her. 

“Nor can I, yet,” Dany admitted, “Seeing Tyrion yesterday was...odd, I suppose. More than seeing the others. But  _ I _ wasn’t about to whip Longclaw out and start slashing either.”

Jon rolled his eyes, though he looked abashed at the accusation. “All right, point taken,” he said defeatedly, “Well we’d better get up then. Unless you’d like to go without meat, I need to go hunting today at some point. It smelled like a storm coming in yesterday and the deer may be on the move.”

They took their time, given that it was so early, to go about the morning. Jon got himself dressed for the day while Dany began to heat up porridge over the fire. While there, she checked on the egg as well, as had become her habit every morning.

“Jon,” Dany called as she stared at it, “Come here, come look.”

“Is it okay?” Jon asked urgently, rushing over with only one boot on, “Oh.” 

_ So it isn’t just me _ , Dany thought, bringing a gentle hand up to run over the shell. It was no longer the consistently dull egg they had seen since the Mammoth’s Head. Something was different. A mild, radiant sheen had spread across the shell. It was weaker than the brilliance it showed when glowing, or the brilliance of its clutchmates, but it was definitely there.

“What do you think made it change?” she asked, voice tinged with awe.

“I don’t know,” Jon replied, stroking a hand over the shell, “But it’s definitely alive, Dany. You’re really helping it.”

Wrapping a hand around his waist, Dany responded, “ _ We _ are.”

~

The sound of laughter from father and daughter made Dany look around from fixing her boots. Rose, seated on Jon’s knee, was having quite the exciting breakfast. 

“Aaaaand one more bite!” Jon said playfully, giving Rose her last spoonful of porridge. Once finished, Rose’s giggles resumed and she clapped her hands together disjointedly (a relatively new skill she had learned with Willa). 

Jon chuckled too, smiling broadly at Dany as she came over and knelt down beside them. “I’m impressed,” she said, swiping a small bit of porridge from Rose’s cheek, “Almost all the breakfast made it into the baby’s mouth!”

“You make it sound like I’m a novice,” Jon mocked, looking dramatically aghast as he handed off Rose to Dany and got up from the chair.

Saying nothing, Dany cocked one eyebrow in response which sent Jon chuckling again and Rose giggling along with him. He walked over to the door of the house, pausing to grab some of their twine from a hook on the right side. “I want to set a few snares before we go and check the ones I set yesterday,” he told Dany, reaching for the door, “In case I don’t have a chance to go out later.”

He opened it up, letting in the cold air which had turned damp in the night, before pausing in the doorway. “Or I guess my chance ended now,” he said grumpily.

“What do you mean?” Dany asked, placing Rose on the bed and striding over to peek out from behind him.  _ Has the storm rolled in already?  _ While the air said it would soon, that was not what had made Jon stop. 

Coming up the path from Shadowedge were two distinct figures who had clearly not made the journey before. Their pace was hesitant and, when they finally stepped into the clearing, they paused, making eye contact with the two people standing in the doorway, before heading over.

Jon groaned, fortunately only so Dany could hear. She pressed a steadying hand into his back, but privately felt like groaning as well.  _ Can’t one part of my life not have people from my past infiltrating it? _

“What brings you out this way?” Jon asked Tyrion and Sansa unsmilingly as they came to a halt in front of the house.

Sansa was the first to speak, her voice strong but with the same brittle undertone as yesterday. “I need to talk to you,” she said to Jon, “Just you.”

Before he answered, Jon glanced back at Dany. She nodded encouragingly, pressing into his back with slightly more force. He sighed, but nodded as well. “All right,” he told Sansa brusquely, “But you’ll have to come into the forest with me. I need to set snares.”

With one more glance at Dany, he headed into the forest with Sansa right behind him. Her auburn hair stood out against the landscape not unlike the weirwood trees that dotted the forest. Soon, they were out of view and Dany was left standing in the doorway with Tyrion in front of her. 

“Did you come for moral support?” she asked him, “Or for me?”

Tyrion shrugged. “A little of both. Do you mind talking?” he replied. 

“I suppose not,” Dany said, “Sitting in silence really isn’t an option with you is it?”

Inside, she grabbed her darning and turned to pluck Rose up from off the bed. Thinking twice, however, Dany turned back on her heels and looked at the egg over the mantle. It seemed much too exposed now. Considering her options quickly, Dany grabbed a basket of furs and cloth and placed it in front of the fire. She took the egg off the mantle and put it in the basket before covering it with another fur. It looked odd, but not conspicuous. Although it would be surprisingly heavy if the unassuming passerby picked it up.

Dany took Rose off the bed and headed outside with Ghost on her heels. Jerking her head, she had Tyrion follow her to the lean-to and set Rose down on the mat she would be using, Ghost taking up a guardian position to the side. Tyrion lingered awkwardly at the front.

“You can sit if you’d like,” Dany said as she sunk down. 

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Tyrion said, “Or is it My Lady? Which do you prefer now?” 

“Neither,” Dany told him, looking at her first piece of darning work, “Actually, it was a bit strange to hear you say that yesterday.”

“What would you prefer?”

“Dany is fine,” she said, “Everyone calls me Dany now.”

Tyrion’s eyes widened, and for once he seemed rather dumbstruck. “I’m...not sure I can do that,” he told her carefully.

She laughed, feeling unexpectedly light at his sudden predicament. No matter what had happened, she now could remember distinctly why she had chosen Tyrion as her Hand. And why she enjoyed his company. 

“We’re not in the Seven Kingdoms anymore, Tyrion,” she said, “There are no titles in the north. But you don’t have to call me anything if that’s easier.”

“For now, I may take you up on that offer.”

“That’s fine,” Dany said, beginning her work, “I’m guessing you came to finish the conversation from yesterday?”

“Yes, but also to hear your side of the events first. The tidbits we got yesterday were quite becoming of an eventful story. And,” he said, gesturing to Rose, “I would love to hear more about your daughter. What’s her name?”

Dany smiled at Rose. Gendry had been right, she really was the perfect combination of her parents. In that moment, Dany realized how surprising it must be for someone like Tyrion to see her with a child. How often had she stated how certain she was that she could not have children?  

“For now, her name is Rose. And, as for what led us here, it’s a very long story,” she told him.

Tyrion folded his hands, leaning back against the lean-to wall in mock preparedness. “You listened to mine yesterday,” he reminded her.

“Well, it started the same night that yours did. Only, I did leave willingly,” she began.

Despite herself, the whole story began pouring out through Dany’s words. It was different, Dany thought, to talk to Tyrion instead of Jon or Willa. She did not know if she would consider him a friend, but more of someone that, even as they began to disagree more and more, she respected. It was someone who had not been there, and yet, unlike Willa, someone who could follow along with the journey from Dragonstone all the way to Shadowedge. 

She started from the moment Jon had come to her in the room at Dragonstone, describing the sudden whirlwind in which they had raced away from the castle and onto the beach, skirting around the firelight where they knew Tyrion had been standing. From there taking him on their journey across the Vale.

“You walked through the Mountains of the Moon in the middle of winter?” Tryion asked, eyebrows raised. 

“We didn’t know what would happen if we met people so we just...didn’t,” she replied.

“But what about when you met travelers?” he asked. 

Dany smiled, remembering the camaraderie of the times spent sharing a meal with the Vale travelers. Bleakly, she wondered where they are now. So many had plans to go onto other lands after crossing the Vale. Had they been able to survive the civil wars ripping apart the other regions? From everything Tyrion had said, so many innocent people had not.

“Well, Jon did all of the talking, so the main concern was that they would recognize me from my hair. And that was consistently dyed brown until we crossed into the North from Sisterton.”

“Which you left right when everything happened,” Tyrion said, keeping the timeline straight.

Dany nodded. “We...we thought about going back then,” she told him solemnly, pausing her darning as she remembered the events on the Sisterton docks at dawn, “But...what good would it have done? We were already polarizing the people before we left. So we kept going. Straight north until we hit Castle Black and joined up with Tormund and the free folk. I wrote a letter to Grey Worm, telling him I was alive, and the next day we were beyond the Wall. We settled here, built the house. Rose was born six months later.”

_ That ended lamely _ , Dany thought to herself. At the same time, she was grateful for it. What a different two years had it been compared to the experiences that Tyrion and the others had gone through. And as much as she felt horrified each time she was reminded of what had happened to the people she had left behind, she was selfishly relieved to have been so far away. For deep down, in the darkest depths of her heart that she never wanted to know again, Dany knew that no ending in the Seven Kingdoms would have been free of fire and blood. 

“So that’s why they left,” Tyrion said, nodding his head. When Dany cocked her head, intrigued, he continued, “After King’s Landing, your armies returned to Dragonstone. One of the only things we could agree upon at the Great Council was to offer that they could settle the area around Dragonstone permanently. But when I returned, the island was completely empty. No Dothraki, Unsullied, even Drogon was gone. I liked to think that you had returned from wherever you had been and left with them - though many still believed that you and Jon had died with Cersei.”

“You said you began to have your suspicions about something else happening?” Dany asked curiously.

“It was very odd of my sister to have not responded either way when we accused her of kidnapping the two of you,” Tyrion explained, “And though the two of you running away did not add up in any situation, neither did the miraculous silent kidnap of a very skilled swordsman and a very resourceful woman from inside the castle. I suppose we wanted to believe the latter, in the end, because it was the easier idea to accept without losing faith that the world could get better. If our leaders didn’t believe that, could we?”

Dany bit her lip, feeling the sting of Tyrion’s words. The guilt. “The world  _ can _ get better,” she replied, tying off the end of her last bit of darning, “I just have come to realize that I wasn’t meant to get it there.”

“You’re so sure about that?” Tyrion pressed.

_ He ought to know _ , she thought,  _ he deserves to know _ . “With everything that had happened,” Dany explained, “After how I was received in the North. And then losing Jorah, losing my children, losing - Missandei. Losing everything for people that didn’t even want me there...if I hadn’t left, I don’t know if King’s Landing would have looked any different.” 

Though he had looked on the verge of saying more, Tyrion remained quiet. Dany expected that what she had told him confirmed thoughts from long ago, thoughts that she knew Varys had shared and that, at one point, she would have considered treasonous. 

It had begun to snow outside. The small, white flakes fell lightly from the dove-gray sky to begin blanketing the clearing. Little rims of snow already stuck to the roofs of the house and the barn, and outlined the petals of the winter roses. 

Dany watched as Tyrion gazed out onto the landscape, a curious look on his face that did not often cross one who had seen and read about so much of the world. 

“What a beautiful home you have,” he remarked. 

  
_ Yes, _ Dany agreed silently, looking from the clearing to her daughter beside her,  _ it is. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eggy egg is glowing up! It was really surprising to write this because for once the characters kind of controlled themselves. 
> 
> Anyways, now the stories have kind of caught up with one another (expect for whatever Sansa and Jon are discussing) so we'll see what happens.


	33. Behind the Violets

Jon and Sansa returned from setting and checking snares not long after carrying, not fowl or rabbits, but a stag. Both looked as stiff and uncomfortable as when they had left, but Dany couldn’t decide if it was because they were with each other or because Sansa was actually helping Jon to shoulder the enormous stag. She watched as Jon whispered something to Sansa, whose face seemed to grow more pained at the words.

The snow had started sticking to the ground more thickly, and they kicked it up as they came over to the lean-to.

“How did you catch it?” Dany asked incredulously, “You didn’t even have your bow.”

“Nearly ran into it while setting the new snares. Good thing, too, this storm feels rough and the snares turned up nothing,” he looked to Sansa and Tyrion, “You’d better get back to your camp. It’s only going to get worse.” 

Tyrion nodded affirmatively, though Dany could see that Sansa was looking rather mutinous towards Jon. She opened her mouth briefly, but thought better and closed it again with, not another glare at Jon, but at Tyrion. He did not seem to notice the daggers being shot in his direction, however, and merely looked on at Jon, Dany, and Rose passively.

“It was good speaking with you again,” he said.

“Likewise,” Dany replied, allowing a small smile at him before she turned to Sansa, “Lady Sansa.”

Sansa acknowledged Dany with a short dip of her head and half a smile, before giving Jon a parting grimace. Maybe it was a start.  _ At least we aren’t at each other’s throats _ , Dany thought, remembering the last time she had a one-on-one conversation with Sansa. Together, Sansa and Tyrion turned to head down the snow-covered path towards Shadowedge.

“Get Rose inside,” Jon told Dany stiffly as the last glimpse of red hair disappeared down the path, “I’ll be in after I finish with the stag.”

Sensing that now was not the time to press him on anything, Dany only nodded and left him in the lean-to. By the time Jon came inside, it had turned out to be an impressive storm. Although it was only midday, the house looked as if it could be twilight. The temperature had dropped considerably, leading Dany to build up the fire more to keep the inside as warm as possible. She looked up as the door banged open and a hunched and snow-covered Jon came in.

His nose was red and tears were streaming down from his eyes. With the amount of white in his hair and beard, he looked as if he had suddenly aged considerably beyond his face. Dany got up to help as he shuffled stiffly inside and closed the door behind him. 

“I thought the weather was supposed to be getting warmer,” Dany remarked as she helped Jon shrug out of his outer layers of clothes, crunchy with ice.

“Aye,” Jon breathed out raggedly, walking over to the fire and leaving traces of white as a trail, “Though false springs aren’t exactly uncommon. And the storm got the deer up and moving. Although I think I scared Sansa when I threw the dagger at her.”

“Why did you throw a dagger at her?” Dany exclaimed. 

“To get her to stop talking,” he grumbled, “No, no. I’m lying. She startled the stag and I figured it would be better to throw the dagger than let it get away entirely. It happened to be right past her.”

Dany raised her eyebrows at Jon’s description. “Lucky throw,” she told him, impressed, “Is that why Sansa seemed so cross?”

“No,” he said shortly. 

Now warmed up, Jon shook himself out once more to rid the rest of the cold from his body and then crossed over to their bed. He paused for a moment in his cross to peek into Rose’s room, where their daughter and Ghost were curled up asleep in her bed for their afternoon nap. Having missed her morning nap, Dany thought putting Rose down a little earlier in the afternoon may be a better option.

Jon sat down on the bed and folded his hands in his lap. Focused on the fire across the room, he only looked up when Dany came to sit down next to him and put a hand on his.

“Do you want to say what happened?” she asked quietly.

Instead of answering her, Jon responded with a question. “What did you and Tyrion talk about?” he asked.

Dany shrugged. “It was rather bland actually. I told him how we ended up here. He told me that the Unsullied and the Dothraki left. He had said that we would discuss what he had talked about yesterday. But...we never got around to it,” she said, knitting her eyebrows. Suddenly the enjoyment of talking to someone she had always genuinely expected had evaporated. It was very unlike the Tyrion she remembered to not get to the point of conversations. 

Jon did not react to what she had said except to nod briefly, still looking at the fire with much more attention than a fire needed. 

“Why do you ask?” she prompted.

“Do you remember what Tyrion said about why they had come?” 

“Jon, will you stop answering my questions with questions?” 

Jon didn’t respond. He turned to look at her, however, as he continued. “Tyrion said they came for  _ you _ . Don’t you remember? They never got to the part of the story, but that’s why they came here today,” he explained, “To finish it.”

“Finish what?” Dany asked. Her mind was racing. In the midst of the story Tyrion had told, she had forgotten their introductions. Forgotten the awkward way that Tyrion had gestured to her and the way Sansa acted as if there was more information she needed.

“I  _ knew _ he didn’t say anything,” Jon muttered, glowering at the ceiling. 

He looked back at Dany, his eyes searching over her face. It seemed to her that he was trying to choose his words carefully, and it made Dany’s stomach drop as she saw the seriousness he regarded her with.  _ Finish what? _ she thought again ominously. What had been kept from her?

Taking a breath, Jon began. “Dany, nobody in Westeros is more acquainted with slavery than you. When the slavers first started coming to the North, someone on the Sansa’s council offhandedly had remarked that they may have welcomed you as the Queen now because you could fend off the slavers the way you had in Slaver’s Bay. 

“Sansa said everyone laughed, and it was a good quip until later when Brienne and Podrick came back from Wintertown with the story that a wildling tradesman had been running his mouth about the most exotic eyes in Shadowedge.”

“Purple eyes?” Dany guessed. Her stomach dropped. From the word “slavery,” she knew where this was headed.

Jon nodded, his own voice hollow as he continued. “Then everyone got to wondering: what’s the chance that they got it wrong? What if one of us didn’t die at King’s Landing? Tyrion thought that Cersei might not have taken us. And then the Unsullied and the Dothraki left Dragonstone without a word in the midst of the Great Council. Drogon, too. Nobody really mentioned it, but - ”

“They had wanted to believe we had died because it was the easier idea to accept than realizing that we had abandoned them,” Dany said, repeating what Tyrion had told her, “But when they heard about Shadowedge...

“They decided that it was worth coming to see if it was really you,” Jon finished, “Sansa doesn’t think that they’ll be able to survive this. That’s what she wanted to talk about - the North. There are too many slavers and not enough Northmen left. She’s sure that it’s the same in the other regions too. They thought that maybe...maybe they could have come to an agreement with you, assuming that you were, for some reason, hiding out here. Obviously that changed when they met us yesterday together and both alive, but they decided to still try and speak to you. Today, Tyrion was supposed to ask for your help.”

_ Always with another motive _ , Dany thought. Once again, she remembered why she picked Tyrion as her Hand. How unreadable he could be. How cunning, sly, slippery, serpentine, wily, manipulative, scheming... _ Stop, Dany, stop _ . 

Dany found that she was on her feet, lips pursed tightly together and heart thumping. She could not tell if her head or her stomach was spinning more intensely. Ask for her help? Why, because they thought she had a dragon? Because once again she was just another weapon to defeat their enemies and then be flung aside because she didn’t belong with them?

_ Essosi bitch. Foreign invader. Not one of us _ . Why turn to someone they seemingly thought so little of? Once again, letting her help because they would be unable to survive on their own.

_ But what about on  _ my  _ own? _ Dany thought selfishly. How many people had she sacrificed for them? And how had they repaid her? Bitterly she remembered how alone she felt after the Battle of Winterfell. And how betrayed she felt as everyone seemed to rejoice that it was over and not care about the next step. The Throne. Her initial plans. What she had been promised. Her birthright, her destiny, her -

Jon tugged gently on her hand. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze and trying to swallow around the lump in her throat as she realized that she was trembling. At this realization, she began to tremble harder, though she did not know whether it was from her sudden resurgence of anger or how terrified she felt her own thoughts. It was hard to breathe, she felt like the room was pulsing in and out. Despite the eerie storm weather, it seemed too bright and loud.

“I can’t go back,” she panted, eyes wide and scared as she looked up at him, “I can’t go back, Jon.”

Her knees gave out and Dany sunk to the floor, shaking even more horribly than before. Jon came down with her, bringing his arms around her and Dany leaned into the embrace. She suddenly felt weak and clammy, as if she was recovering from an illness that had been with her a week rather than a surge of emotion only minutes old.

“It’s okay, Dany,” Jon soothed, smoothing her hair, “You don’t have to go back.”

Anger warred with the terror inside her. Here she was trying to live away from everything these Southerners brought back into her life, and yet she knew that innocent people were dying. She knew, and she was sure Jon thought the same, that a woman as proud as Sansa would have never chosen to come here unless her situation was dire. And yet how could Dany put herself in that position again? How could she open herself up to all the pain again? But how could she sit by and let people die? But how could she even give herself an inch of that power, even a taste of it, again?

“Look to me _ , _ ” said Jon breaking her out of the repeating phrase as he unwrapped himself from the embrace to take Dany’s face in his hands, “Dany, look at me. You have the kindest heart. You have done nothing but try and put the past behind you and live peacefully. I know you want to make these amends, I know you’re trying. But if you don’t want to go back, it’s okay to say no.”

Dany nodded, trying to take a steadying breath to stop her head from reeling. “I don’t want to hear about more people dying. I don’t want to know that maybe I could do something,” Dany murmured hoarsely to him, “But, Jon, I also don’t want people to fear me anymore. Anyone. Slaver, free folk, kneeler, anyone. And if I tried to help - to do what I did last time...I - I don’t know if I’d be able to return from that.”

“Then you won’t have to,” Jon promised, pulling her close and kissing her hair.

Thankful, Dany closed her eyes and tried to lose herself in the feeling of Jon’s embrace. But a small voice in the back of her mind still tried to make itself heard. Somewhere, right now out there, someone was innocent was being sold because there was nobody to defend them when they needed it the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incredible response to last chapter and I really feel compelled to address a lot of your reviews with how Dany is reacting to Tyrion and Sansa. Just remember the quote at the beginning of this Book: "If I look back, I am lost." Dany is really trying to embody that statement - we see that here. 
> 
> That being said, there's always an ulterior motive and we see that as well. So it isn't quite all flowery. 
> 
> Thank you as always for being so engaging, I love reading every one of your reviews (and they literally made me re-write this chapter 6 times as I thought about everything you said and all your insights) and so appreciate being able to share this with you!


	34. The Last of the Lannisters

Dany awoke suddenly, very early, the next morning with a brooding headache behind her right eye. Cowering from the pale light that filtered into her house, she felt like a cave creature that had only just emerged after a season’s rest in the darkness. She could tell, squinting to look between her lashes, that Jon was out of bed, but she did not hear any evidence of him moving around the house.  _ Probably checking the damage _ , Dany thought.

The wind from the storm had picked up in the evening, and though Rose fell asleep easily amidst the howls and clatters from outside, Dany was not so lucky. She lay in bed for hours listening to Jon’s steady breathing mix with the storm, attempting to will herself to sleep as her mind slipped deeper into a dark place of memory and fear.

Jon had been right. She  _ did _ want to make these amends. To own up to her mistakes, her faults, her failings, even if nobody else would. To be the person she wanted her daughter to be when she came of age. Strong, independent, kind. With none of the brutality and all of the love. Doing this - saving these people - could be the answer. But to take up the helm of ending slavery through violence and destruction as she had done once before? Was Slavers’ Bay any better now? Had she ever  _ really _ succeeded in doing anything past causing more strife? And did she know any other way to stop the slavers than through violence?

She had always scoffed at Tyrion’s ideas of trying to solve things with words, preferring the immediacy of actions to get what she needed. And yet, now, it seemed as if the roles were reversed. How desperate must Tyrion be to advise that they should come and ask for her help, knowing how the Daenerys Targaryen of old liked to solve problems?  _ I’m going to tell them I can’t help _ , she thought unconvincingly. 

She could help.

She didn’t want to help. 

She didn’t want to help the way she knew how. And at this point, it didn’t feel like there was another way. Was there?

Dichotomic thoughts still running through her head ( _ Forgiveness and fear? Forgiveness or fear?) _ , Dany gave up trying to get back to sleep and rolled out of the bed. Quietly, she padded barefoot to Rose’s room, where her daughter still slept. 

Rose had demonstrated herself to be an extremely heavy sleeper. She did not notice as Dany came into the room and sunk down onto the fur-covered floor next to the bed, arms over the frame. Her daughter’s little hands were curled into fists reaching high over her head almost in some sort of celebration. Dany placed her chin onto her arms, smiling to herself as she watched Rose sleeping. The baby’s little nose momentarily scrunched up and she squirmed in bed, settling herself more comfortably.

_ What does she dream of? _

Dany often wondered what Rose dreamt at night and thought of during the day. She was eager for her to begin talking and eventually to begin sharing her thoughts, however simple or complex they would be. And, at the same time, she would have been very content for this moment to last forever. Just her and Rose, together in their peaceful little house during the quiet after the storm, and nothing else.  _ Except Jon _ , she added sleepily in her thoughts, blinking slowly.

“Dany,” Jon whispered, shaking her shoulder, “Dany, wake up.”

“Hmm? Jon? What is it?” Dany asked, raising her head off her hands too fast. Her vision spun for a moment and her headache protested. Momentarily disoriented, Dany could not understand how she ended up laying off the side of her bed with her mouth feeling as though she had held Ghost’s fur in it for quite a while.

Not her bed, Rose’s bed.  _ Oh, right _ , Dany thought as the memories of the early morning came back to her. Blearily, she saw that Rose was still sprawled out in bed and estimated that she could not have been asleep beside it for very long. 

Long enough, however, that the house smelled nice and seemed to have warmed considerably. Jon had added to the fire.

“Why did you go out so early?” Dany asked him as she stood up and stretched. He did not answer immediately, instead motioning for them to leave Rose’s room and leading Dany out to sit in a chair near the fire.

For a moment, he hesitated as he stood in front of her. “The barn roof caved in,” he told her baldly, “Snow turned icy overnight. It was too heavy, must’ve been a weak spot somewhere.”

“The whole thing?” Dany asked slowly. Between the delays, no trading, and now the roof, she had begun to question if they would ever be able to get sheep.

Jon nodded defeatedly, sinking down onto the ground next to her. “I need to go into the village,” he said, “See if there’s damage there first. And then get some help to clear the rest of the roof and pull something over it for now until we can get a new one in order. I was able to salvage some of the wood, but I don’t think anything is usable.”

“Why don’t you wait a bit? Once Rose is up, we can come.”

“Dany, the snow’s past my knees out there. Even if  _ I _ carried Rose all the way...it’s probably easier that I just go alone. Anyway, I didn’t think you’d want to go?” Jon looked at her quizzically. Before they had gone to sleep for the night (rather, Jon had and Dany had laid awake), Dany had left it that she did not want to speak to anyone the next day. Unless they had brown, beaded hair, gold eyes, and smelled like herbs. And their name was Willa. This morning, however, Dany was certain that if she did not speak to Tyrion, her headache may actually split her skull in two.

_ It’s cowardly to hide _ , she had told herself,  _ but not cowardly to make a choice _ . She realized in the midst of the night that all the information she had learned was from Jon. Why hadn’t Tyrion spoken to her like he was apparently supposed to do? Why had Sansa told Jon, but not Dany? And why had Tyrion gone against the plan  _ he _ had come up with?

In the end, Dany’s need for answers and headache relief won out over her wish to hide alone in her house.

“No,” she told Jon, “I...I want to go. And I think I have an idea for Rose. You said you salvaged some of the roof?”

“Yes…?”

“Good,” Dany said smiling, “Then let’s get ready.”

~

It was easily her best idea since insisting on a feather bed. Jon and Dany trudged on the way to Shadowedge, making sure to deliberately stamp in order to break up the glistening ice layer overtop the snow. In his hand, Jon held a length of rope that led to a loop slung around Ghost’s large neck to keep him from running off with the baby. 

“Ga! Ga ga ga ga!” Rose shouted, clapping her hands as slid across the snow aboard a piece of the old barn roof attached to the huge direwolf.

Dany smirked and Jon rolled his eyes. “You do realize we look ridiculous, don’t you?” 

“Frozen Shores clans do it, why can’t we?” she challenged lightly, heaving a little as she swung one leg out of a snowdrift to make her next step. 

Jon offered her his free hand to steady herself. “Maybe you should hop on,” he joked.

“Ha  _ ha _ .”

There was definitely a part of Dany that would have considered it if it had not meant a total loss of dignity. The snow was nearly to her thighs, something that hadn’t happened in several months, and traveling even the hour into Shadowedge had turned into an arduous task. She couldn’t imagine how their visitors were feeling. If Dany had been dressed in even the garb they wore in the North, she would have been a lot more grumpy. There were multiple reasons that free folk did not wear capes, and one of them was definitely because they snag on icy snow. 

Red-faced and panting by the time they crossed into Shadowedge (keenly avoiding the camp of Northerners) and stopped in front of Willa’s house, Dany needed a moment to catch her breath before going in. 

“You’re sure you don’t want me to come?” Jon asked her, resuming the discussion they’d had amidst the stumbling, cursing, and stamping of the journey.

Dany nodded. “I don’t want anyone to appeal to you in order to appeal to me,” she told him, “And anyway, you have the barn roof to sort out.”

“Okay,” Jon said. He hesitated for a second before grabbing Dany’s waist and pulling her in for a surprisingly searing kiss given that they were outside a house in the middle of Shadowedge. 

Her mind blissfully wiped for a moment, but before she could respond more than to begin wrapping her arms around Jon’s neck, Dany heard an interruption. “Mamamama!” Rose chattered.

Both parents smiled into their kiss before breaking apart. Placing one last kiss on Dany’s lips and then one on Rose’s head, Jon left with Ghost. 

Dany picked Rose up from the makeshift sled and turned to knock on Willa’s door, but instead found her friend opening it. 

“Hi,” Dany said, smiling awkwardly with the realization that Willa had been aware she and Jon were out front, “Do you mind watching Rose for a little?”

“I suppose not,” Willa said grumpily, opening the door wider, “Why? Do you have better things to do?”

_ What? _ “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dany asked hotly, following Willa into her house, “I can ask someone else if you’re not in the  _ mood _ .”

Willa whipped around, eyes blazing, before she saw Dany frowning and softened. “No,” she said apologetically, “No, I am. Sorry. Rough morning. Is everything okay?”

“I can stay,” Dany said immediately. For the first time, she noticed Willa’s face. Pale. And puffy around here eyes which still seemed to glisten. Her cheeks were jaggedly red, as if she had tried to roughly dry them on her sleeve.

“Aye. You and nobody else. I’m not helpless, Dany,” Willa said hollowly, giving one note of mirthless laugh and looking up at her ceiling, “Gods, I feel so stupid. I mean she’s just so  _ tall _ and a  _ knight _ and she’s incredible. If she was one of us she’d be an amazing spearwife. And I’m just...a healer.”

_ Brienne? _ Dany frowned, confused, although Willa seemed to take it as a cue to keep talking.

“And now she’s going back and, I mean, who can fault him? He said he’d guide them. And came and told me and I just...let it go. But apparently not saying anything is wrong? What could I say, Dany? And then I said that they might as well go off. Just like old times, apparently. Why is he sticking around here anyways? Ugh, I’m such an idiot.” 

_ No, Tormund _ . Understanding replaced the confusion, albeit mixed with a little surprise. She hadn’t realized Willa felt about Tormund more than she or Jon did.  _ Although I haven’t exactly been paying close attention _ , she realized with a pang of regret. 

“Tormund’s taking people back past the Wall?” Dany asked, trying to comprehend the story and at the same time realizing what that meant for her.  _ Willa first _ , she told herself.

“Ship’s damaged,” Willa replied dejectedly, “You’ll hear about it. That’s where you’re going, isn’t it? To talk to your kneeler friends.”

“Look, I know you’ve had a bad morning, but stop biting my head off,” Dany told her firmly, “And anyway, why are you moping in the first place? You just said you weren’t helpless. If you screwed up, go fix it! Obviously you mean something if he came to talk to you.”

Willa blinked at her. “But what about - ?”

Putting her hand up to stop Willa, Dany smiled encouragingly. “Don’t worry about Rose, I’ll take her,” she said, standing up with Rose still in her arms, “But when I get back, you’d better have talked to Tormund.”

“Don’t most people comfort their friends in need?” Willa asked sarcastically.

“Do you want me to?” Dany asked as she headed for the door.

Willa shrugged. “Not particularly.”

~

The Northern camp was a whirlwind. People seemed to emerge in and out of every tent at lightning speed so that it looked as though there were seventy people instead of forty. Rose was extremely interested in all the excitement. Her head whipped back and forth around Dany’s body as she squirmed to take in everything. A few people paused as Dany entered the thick of the activity, immediately knowing which tent she should go into from the lack of people coming in and out of it.

Not particularly interested in being announced, she simply slipped inside the tent, interrupting a seemingly heated discussion between several parties.

“As soon as every last one of us is back behind the Wall without anything to show for it, we’ve sentenced ourselves to die,” Sansa was saying very seriously. 

“Or  _ maybe _ we just haven’t looked at every...option yet,” Tyrion replied, deflating as he caught Dany’s eye in the entrance. 

The others, including Gendry and Brienne who had been watching the discussion like it was some sort of tourney, turned to look at her and Dany suddenly felt extremely homely, memories of her past positions in discussions like this very present in her mind.

Steeling herself, Dany spoke. “May I speak with you?” she inquired directly to Tyrion. 

Sansa hadn’t quite mastered the art of being discrete and Dany, forever ingrained with the ability to read a political room, caught the blue-eyed look of pure  _ “You fucked up” _ directed at Tyrion.

Clearing his throat and ignoring Sansa, Tyrion nodded. “Perhaps elsewhere,” he said, roaming up to her and gesturing out of the tent. She caught the glance he threw back at the others as they left together.

“I heard your ship was damaged in the storm,” Dany started as she led Tyrion to the northern edge of the village. The children enjoyed playing on a stone circle there, and she felt it was set apart enough from the activity in Shadowedge and the camp.

“Alas, apparently icebergs can come fairly close to the shore. And damage ships,” he said, chuckling grimly.

The stone circle was ringed with snow and ice, but she was able to find a large flat stone to sit on and prop Rose on her knee. Tyrion sat next to her, folding his hands in his lap and looking at her seriously.

“You’re walking back then?” she asked. 

“The ones who could make it that far,” he explained, jokingly pointing at himself, “A few of us are, myself and Sansa included, are staying behind. It takes less time to walk to the nearest settlement in the North not yet destroyed by slavery or White Walkers and get horses for the rest of us to ride back than it would to rebuild the ship or fetch a new one. I apologize to say we’ll be darkening your corridors - er - village a while longer. I’m guessing that that isn’t what you came to talk about?”

Dany regarded him coolly.  _ He knows _ , she thought savagely,  _ and now he’s staying? _ But her thoughts assuaged quickly. They hadn’t chosen the iceberg to hit their ship. Nor had he or Sansa probably been too pleased to be told that they would only slow down progress without a horse. There had to be a reason he had held back yesterday. A reason he had just been arguing with Sansa. If he was staying, it was all the more reason to close out the topic now.

“Why didn’t you tell me why you were here?” she asked plainly, “Jon told me what the plan had been for yesterday. What changed?”

If anything, she expected Tyrion to wordsmith his way out of this. To come up with some clever plan or ruse that, even though Dany was prepared to recognize it, she would feel impressed by and respect the attempt. Instead, he sighed, closing his eyes and nodding. 

“You did,” he told her, “When we decided to come up here to see if what Ser Brienne had heard - I’m speaking as if Jon told you everything - it was to come and talk to who you were. Someone who was, I assumed because I thought you had led your armies away from Dragonstone at the time, so singly focused on her goals that an appeal to her to end slavery in Westeros would help us all. Or to simply use you, because who knows what would have happened afterwards? We all wish to extend our lives a little longer.

“But then I met you. Got to know you again. Perhaps got to know you better in the past two days than I ever did when serving as your Hand because this is who you’ve chosen to be. And how long has it been since you were focused on those goals?” 

At this, Tyrion gestured to Rose and Shadowedge, and then in the direction of her house in the clearing and worked in a small smile.

“Two years,” Dany replied, looking out at the village with him, “I haven’t wanted those goals in two years. I still don’t want them.”

“Why should we try to force them upon you then?” Tyrion asked, “And what good would it do any of us? When you told me yesterday about your fears of what would have happened if you and Jon hadn’t left that night, how was I even to ask you to help us? Not out of fear for what you think you could become. Seeing as we’re being entirely truthful, I’m sure I’ve always known deep down that you’ve had that side. But out of respect for you walking away from everything. Out of respect for your choices.

“I am the last of the Lannisters,” he continued, “My family died at each others’ hands in a life spent politicking, scheming, and being generally arrogant. I killed my father. I watched as my brother died when my sister blew up an entire city and killed four hundred thousand innocent people. And yet here I am, still politicking and scheming. Still as arrogant as the day before. Perhaps with slightly better intentions, but we’re calling our ducks ducks.

“You walked away from becoming your family. In essence, you were the last Targaryen. And yet now you’ve made your own family. Your own life. After everything our world has put you through. Every thankless person that you have tried to help who took piece of your good heart. Every time you’ve sacrificed yourself to do the  _ right _ thing. You didn’t deserve me putting you into that position again. There is no right choice in this case. But for you, there is a better one.” 

They did not speak again for a long while, instead sitting in silence and watching the day unfold. The camp tents were coming down - Dany briefly wondered where those left behind would be staying - while the villagers went about their normal chores. Dany was drawn to picking out the villagers below. She knew each of them by name. What they liked, who their children were, where they came from. And they knew her: Dany. 

“I may not be able to help you,” she said, looking down at him and breaking the silence, “but know that you’re welcome in Shadowedge. We have no surnames here.”

“I’ll remember that.”

~

Still feeling strange, although more resolved, Dany made her way back to Willa’s house with only Rose in tow. She expected, as she got to the front of the healer’s home, that her next task of the day would involve dragging her friend out of the house and telling her to stop moping like a maiden locked in a tower and fix it. 

It would have been a welcome change, but Dany had never really given Willa much thought as a romantic being. It seemed that she viewed other people like she viewed plants: enjoyable to interact with, but also easily hands off. They never really spoke about that other side of people. The few times Dany mentioned it in the beginning of her friendship sent Willa melodramatically gagging.

Therefore, it was with some trepidation that Dany opened the door and readied herself to delve into Willa’s loving side: a stranger to all. 

_ Or...not... _ Dany thought as she slowly covered Rose’s eyes with her free hand. From their current angle, it was very difficult to distinguish whether Tormund had the beard or Willa had suddenly sprouted one. 

Quietly, Dany backed out of the house and closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally called "The Last of Us" and has actually been in the plan for a while, but then I wrote the segment when Dany looks out at the village and realized she couldn't be part of the grouping. 
> 
> Tormund and Willa was literally not planned. I actually was writing a different pairing and had a very sudden vision of them that became the ending scene for this chapter. I can honestly say my characters (or the version of them in this fic) virtually wrote themselves (and waged war against my pairing choice). This seemed like a good place to integrate it because Dany's been very caught up in her own world. But, I kind of think they balance each other out. We'll see what happens.... 
> 
> Also, Ghost the sled dog.


	35. Florals and Spice

“What about some smelling lavender and I can make you some ginger tea to help the nausea?” Willa said softly.

“Mm,” was the only sound a whimpering Dany could make. She was lying on her side on Willa’s bed, face straight into the bed, after having virtually collapsed there once she made it to Shadowedge that morning with Rose. Jon was finishing up the new barn roof with some of the other villagers, and the thought of any sounds louder than her own breathing made Dany feel like she would vomit and pass out at the same time.

So, naturally, she made the trek to with Rose to the only place potentially louder than her own home, pretending to not feel like utter shit until she had reached her friend’s house. It had been over a month since most of the Southern Northerners (as Dany had begun to call them in her head) had left, with Tormund as their guide, to walk back south of the Wall in search of garrons as Tyrion, Sansa, and a few others were left behind.

This was not without good reason, seeing as the storm after which they had set off most likely made the journey quite treacherous. Nobody wished to risk the Lady of Winterfell, and, seeing as there has still been no return of the travelers, it was with good reason. That is not to say that the party was doomed to failure, but only that the journey was taking much longer than if it had been spring and if there were any settlements left north of Winterfell (very few, Dany had been told, after the Night King had turned any living thing into a wight).

Despite the continued visitors, the village had turned back to relative normalcy. The Southern Northerners integrated well into being a helpful bunch, although Tyrion’s wit rubbed a few the wrong way. Trade had picked up again after the storm, though Willa had still been unable to get any more nutmeg. The children rowdily played outside as a band of laughter and destruction. And Dany was sick.

She’d been waking up with regular headaches for the past couple of weeks and expected that it was just her body fighting something off from the sudden changes in weather. But yesterday, and even more today, the headaches had come coupled with horrible nausea and Dany decided that it was time to seek Willa out for help. The healer was skeptical about “just fighting something off,” but nobody else had come down with a sickness so she was quite intrigued.

As Willa approached the bed, Dany turned her head to face her friend, her eyes only half open. She could barely see Rose seated on a woven mat underneath the loft ladder, playing and babbling happily to herself.

Willa held something flowery under Dany’s nose. “Just smell the lavender for me,” she encouraged.

Breathing deeply, Dany pulled in the perfumy scent of plant, allowing it to flow through her nose and imagining a purple hue dropping deep into her body. Although it was not a cure-all, it did feel very calming and, though she may have imagined it or just hoped, her headache and nausea seemed to relax its grip. 

Willa’s door banged open and a shrill voice that could only belong to a four-year old, redheaded Myl sounded. “Willa! Have you seen Dany?”

And the headache was back again. 

“Myl,” Willa hissed, “What did we talk about with you stomping in here when my door’s closed?”

Myl’s feet slapped across the floor and he stopped right before the bed. “Oh,” he said, finally processing what had happened when he saw the scene on the bed, “Sorry, Dany.”

“It’s fine, Myl,” Dany said, trying to suppress her groan, “What were you looking for me for?”

“A story!” Myl said proudly, not lowering his voice in the slightest, “Thistle said she saw you this morning. And then we went looking for you! And  _ I _ comed here!”

Simultaneously while putting the lavender back under Dany’s nose, Willa suggested, “Maybe you could just tell everyone that you  _ didn’t _ find Dany?”

“No,” Dany said, bringing up a heavy hand to move the lavender away and ignoring Willa’s glare, “No, it’s okay. Tell everyone that if they come here and sit nicely outside. I’ll tell them a story.”

Myl beamed. Barely able to contain his squeal of joy in his tiny body, he raced out of Willa’s house without closing the door and they could hear him shouting to the other kids as he ran.

Finally, Dany looked up at Willa, who was still crossly holding the lavender and pursing her lips. Dany sighed. “If I don’t tell them one now, they’ll be pestering us every hour until I do,” she justified, rubbing her head while blinking to try and look more alert.

“You said you’ve been feeling better in the afternoon,” Willa chided. 

Dany shrugged. “And _you_ always say that fresh air is the best remedy. And you’ll be right here. I’ll even drink the ginger tea from you,” she said.

“Two cups,” Willa agreed, “And a third if your story’s that long. Stay in bed until everyone gets here.” 

She turned around to boil some water over the fire and Dany sunk back into the bed, not unwilling to listen to Willa’s last advice.

~

Dany didn’t truly regret what she said to Myl until she was blearily emerging from Willa’s house, squinting in the sunlight that seemed like it was beating down in the Red Waste rather than Shadowedge.  _ Is it too late for Myl to pretend he didn’t find me? _

It was, for a little crowd of children already squatted in the snow by Willa’s table. Their eager faces shone with admiration for Dany as she stepped over to her favorite chair, closely followed by Willa and Rose. Sitting down and blinking very hard, Dany tried to push her feelings of aching and nausea away, instead hastily planning out a story for her audience. 

Nearly all of the children from the village, plus a few passing through newcomers, were gathered at her feet. Myl, in the front, was still beaming proudly. His little chest was puffed out and Dany could almost hear his thoughts of “I found Dany! It was me!”

“Okay,” Dany started, making the children sit up straighter, excitement written across their young faces, “Who can tell me some of the last stories we heard?”

Although she had only asked the question to stall while she got her current story in order and forced herself to think of something other than her churning stomach, everyone began shouting out what they had heard from Dany in the past.

“Tyrosh!” “Naath!” “The Tall Men!” “Her-akkers!”

“It’s her- _ akkares _ , Myl!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

“Is - ”

“Actually,” Dany said, breaking up the argument over the white lions, “It’s  _ hrakkars _ . But today we’re going to go much more eastern than  _ hrakkars _ ever venture.”

“Where, Dany?” Nerell asked eagerly.

Dramatically, she looked around at all of the children, smiling. It was hard to feel sick with the level of excitement they showed, and she found herself able to push aside some of the nausea. Or it could have been the ginger tea Willa had placed in front of her. Stubbornly, she wasn’t in the mood to admit that Willa’s remedies were working.

“Yi Ti,” Dany said, letting the name waft over the kids while she took a sip of the warm and spicy drink. It stung going down her throat, but was definitely pleasant.

Clearing her throat, Dany continued. “Beyond the Dothraki Sea, past even Qarth - which is the further I ever went east - and over the Bone Mountains lays Yi Ti, home of the Golden Empire of Yi Ti. The land is a great menagerie of lush, green farmland and thick, wet jungles. Instead of needles, trees have broad, green leaves and many grow thicker and taller than in the Haunted Forest. So thick that it would take two or three of you to wrap your arms around its trunk! It never snows, but rains often. And sometimes it seems as though the rainclouds touch the trees Basilisks stalk those jungles, so the YiTish must be very careful.”

“What’s a bas-liks?” Myl piped up.

“A very large creature with six legs. Its tail is like a thick whip and it has a horrible, ferocious face with many, many pointy teeth,” she said, sipping the ginger tea again. 

“Have you ever seen one, Dany?”

Nodding, Dany answered. “Once,” she said grimly, remembering her experience at the Qartheen docks with some revulsion, “I don’t think I would like to see one again. That being said, Yi Ti isn’t just trees and basilisks. I have been told that its cities are a sight to behold. Greater, more numerous, and more splendid than any others. It has been said that below every YiTish city, three older ones are buried.

“Now, remember, I said that Yi Ti existed in the Golden Empire of Yi Ti. Just like  _ magnars _ and kings and queens, the YiTish used to be ruled over by one emperor: a person whom the YiTish believed to be both god and emperor. Today, that emperor is Bu Gai, the seventeenth of the azure emperors. He is much less powerful than the god-emperors of old, but foreigners believe that he is the current rightful emperor of Yi Ti. I have heard that there are two other men who contest Bu Gai’s rule. Since we are foreigners and not YiTish, however, we’ll recognize him for now. According to the YiTish, he is the only one allowed to wear gold - could you imagine that? Being the only one allowed t- ”

Dany paused as a flash of red hair behind the children caught her eye. Sansa had come to listen. 

Having shut down any ideas about leaving to help the North with their slaver problem, Dany felt that she had potentially scorched any surviving link between herself and the Lady of Winterfell. She never did hear exactly what Sansa’s reaction had been when Tyrion inevitably told her about their conversation, but it can’t have been good since Sansa had stopped speaking to virtually everybody except the few children that liked to braid hair with her. It can’t be easy, Dany reasoned, to have been left behind by your people until they returned with horses and know that the entire reason you came up here was a failure.

She seemed, however, from what Willa had said, to be in all right spirits whenever she was around the village girls. Many of them now sported very Southern-looking braids. Otherwise, Sansa very quietly drifted around Shadowedge with not much more than a few nods a day. More than angry or sad, she just seemed resigned. Dany had caught her peering out from far away some days when there were gatherings in the village, but this was the first time she had ever actually openly joined a group.

The children quickly made a gap for her to sit, and it wasn’t long after Sansa had sat down that she had a few of the girls crawling over to be next to her.

“Being the only one allowed to wear a certain color or item of clothing?” Dany repeated, taking her eyes away from Sansa to scan across her audience, “What if you never could wear brown again? Or if only Willa was allowed to wear shoes?”

“No way! We wouldn’t have any feet left!” one of the children shouted, shaking her head.

“Do they have feet, Dany?” another asked very solemnly. The other children’s mouths opened in shock at the question. People without feet?

Laughing, she nodded. “Yes, they have feet,” she said, “And hands. They’re very fine craftsmen. Beautiful silk like the kind the Tyroshi wear - so soft and light. They also trade in wine and spices. Particularly saffron, which, I think, Willa might have some for you  _ all to smell _ ?”

Pursing her lips and coolly narrowing her eyes, Willa regarded Dany. “ _ See if I ever help your nausea again _ ,” she hissed before adding at normal volume, “Yes, I’ll be right back with it.”

Although they were quaking with anticipation, the children patiently watched Willa go into her house, chattering excitedly to one another. Even Sansa, Dany saw, was attentive.  _ I wonder how many stories Sansa missed _ , Dany thought, remembering how young Jon said Sansa was when she left for King’s Landing with her father as the new Hand. The same age as Enda, who still loved to listen to stories and play with the other kids (albeit, much more responsibly).  _ Another childhood snatched away _ , Dany thought sadly, silently vowing that Rose’s never would be.  

Willa returned with the tiny purse of saffron to allow each child - and Sansa - a sniff, though she refused to let anyone hold it or pass it around. 

“Now close your eyes when you smell it,” Dany instructed, “See if you can imagine you’re crossing along the stone streets of a YiTish city. Perhaps Yin or Jinqi. Far, far away from here. Warm, humid. With sounds of merchants and the jungle in the distance.”

The children nodded, smiling as each one got a sniff of the saffron and began to imagine the strange land so far from their own. As Willa crossed over back to Dany, she jokingly held the small purse under her nose. “Many people would trade anything for a spice like saffron,” Dany said, enjoyably inhaling deeply, “And - ”

_ No! No saffron! _ her body protested, finding the smell utterly revolting. Dany was sure she had turned green as she gripped the side of Willa’s table, knuckles turning white, while her stomach flipped inside out.  

“And for the rest of the YiTish story, you have to come back another time,” Willa quickly amended, placing a hand on Dany’s shoulder and nearly pulling her up from the chair, “Now go imagine what it’s like to be in Yi Ti so you can tell Dany when she does the next part.”

She shooed the children away, who, a bit whiny that the story ended so abruptly, obediently did as they were told while Dany barely made it into the house before collapsing to her knees and vomiting into an empty basin. She was sure her feet were still sticking out of Willa’s doorway.

Willa’s hand was rubbing her back less than a moment later. “Just let it out, Dany. You’ll feel better when it’s over,” she said nicely, though Dany could hear the “I told you so” in her voice.

She dry-heaved a few times more before flopping her head back and trying to breathe, feeling clammy and weak. At Willa’s silent urging, Dany, unable to figure out where her feet were, crawled back into her friend’s bed. Feeling better when it was over did not seem to be taking place, and she groaned as Willa placed a fresh basin at the bedside. 

“ _ Saffron _ made you sick?” Willa asked her in amazement.

“Are you sure it’s not bad? It smelled horrible,” Dany replied feebly, feeling her nausea worsen just at the thought of its smell. 

“You  _ love _ saffron!” Willa said, “If I could get you to - Sansa? Oh, gods, Rose!”

_ Sansa? _ They had left her daughter outside! Despite her protesting body, Dany shot up. 

Sansa was blushing, holding a content Rose who was less interested in the people and more in the new braided toy Willa had started giving her a few days prior.

“Sorry, um, I saw you were sick and waited with her outside until it sounded like everything was...finished. To keep her off your hands for a bit,” Sansa said, looking very wide-eyed. 

“It’s okay,” Dany sighed, laying back down as she felt another wave of nausea, “Thank you.”

Still holding Rose, Sansa took a few tentative steps closer. “Are you...all right?” she asked carefully. 

Before Dany could answer, Willa’s hand shout out and held a spice purse under Sansa’s nose. “Here, smell this and tell me I’m not insane. Does this make you sick?” she asked bluntly.

Startled and still wide-eyed, Sansa did as she told. Dany watched as the woman inhaled the saffron, the tiniest ghost of a childlike smile gracing her face as she did so. Gently, she shook her head at Willa, looking back at Dany concernedly.

“There! See, Dany?” Willa said with a satisfied, and slightly smug, expression, “It’s just saffron! And you  _ like _ smelling saffron. As I said, if I could get you to smell - ”

Her expression changed, a look of realization dawning on her face as she held her mouth slightly agape. She turned to look at Dany for a moment, scanning over her, and then to Sansa and then back to Dany again. A knowledgeable smile replaced the realization as she stared at Dany on the bed. 

“Are you going to finish that sentence today?” Dany asked flatly.

“You’re not sick,” Willa told her.

“Really? Because I think the vomit in your basin says otherwise.”

Shaking her head, Willa continued to smile. “No, Dany. You’re not sick. You’re pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yi Ti is one of my favorite parts of the unseen world of Game of Thrones. So I drew a lot of inspiration from reading up on it and seeing what parts Dany could have interacted with while in Essos (her experience with the basilisk in Qarth is canon, but she saw it ripping a dog apart so I feel like, especially with her relationship with Ghost, that would have been tough to remember).
> 
> It's not on the Quartermaester map, so if anyone if following along with that, I had to look up a broader map to research the geography.
> 
> Baby #2? She's about 7-8 weeks along right now.


	36. Customarry

The walk back from Willa’s house to Dany’s was much longer than usual. Though she still seemed to cover ground with Rose in the same amount of time, Dany felt as though it stretched out forever with her thoughts plaguing each step of the way. 

Plaguing? Maybe not the right word for it. Something else that was incredulous and hesitantly joyful. 

“You can’t know that!” Dany had protested in Willa’s house after her friend announced Dany’s diagnosis. 

“Who’s the healer here?” Willa argued, “Even if I didn’t see you early when you had Rose, I remember what you told me your symptoms were. You got sick all the time in the beginning! When did you bleed last?”

Dany tried to think back, stuttering her response, “T-That - that doesn’t mea - ”

“Does too!” Willa snapped, “You don’t remember, do you? It’s been more than a month, hasn’t it? Almost two? Way more than normal. And you’re as normal as they come!”

She had been unable to say anything in defense. Willa’s diagnosis was crystalline, and Dany knew it from the moment she heard the word. Was she shocked? Absolutely. In disbelief? Even more so. 

Though she shouldn’t be - Dany blushed - given her nightly activities. _But Rose hasn’t even had her first nameday yet_ , one part of her mind protested. It was silly, but Dany had always thought of families as being structured similarly to how she, Rhaegar, and Viserys had been. Of course that wasn’t true, but she had just never given any thought to being pregnant a year after the birth of her first child.

“Ooh!” Dany said to Rose as they walked on, “How do I even tell your papa that he’s going to be...a papa again?”

“Ah?” Rose replied, cocking her head up to look at her mother.

“And you’re going to be an older sister,” Dany said to her, “Because Mama’s going to have another baby, Rosie.” Despite the shock (and nausea) still swirling about, Dany was overcome with a swooping feeling of giddiness. 

Hesitantly joyful wasn’t the right description either. Overjoyed? Completely. She was _pregnant_. After everything. After the last few months with the unhatched egg, the ship of people bearing bad news and worse propositions, the barn roof damage; after all of that, there was something to truly be excited about. 

Once again, she was carrying a new little life inside her. Her baby. Hers and Jon’s. Their family was still growing and Dany felt as though her heart was about to bloom. 

A memory of the week after Rose was born flashed in her mind: _“I already know I want siblings for you as long as your mama does.”_ She remembered replying that she needed some time to rest before they tried for another one. 

“I guess the resting is over, Rosie,” Dany said as the little house in the clearing came into view, “And now all we need to do is tell Papa.”

~

The other people helping Jon to fix the barn roof were gone by the time Dany and Rose got there. It looked completely repaired now, like the storm had never even damaged it. The only hint that something needed to be fixed was the silhouette of Jon in the afternoon sun making a few last adjustments on it. 

“Can you call your papa, Rosie?” Dany prompted her daughter, shifting to make sure Rose could see Jon on the roof, “Say ‘Papa!’”

Rose looked interestedly at Jon, baby-toothed smile coming out in full as she realized who it was.

“Papa!” Dany said again softly, bouncing Rose once. She had been trying this with new words every day, though her success had so far been limited to excited attempts of babbling.

She prompted again, “Papa!” 

_“Papa!”_

Jon nearly fell off the roof. 

He slid down, ungracefully, and nearly leapt over to where the tiny voice had come from. “Did she - she just - did she -?” he spluttered, staring manically.

As if to confirm, Rose said it again, pointing at Jon, “Papa!”

Both he and Dany grinned and Jon took Rose from Dany’s arms, bringing her up into the air. “That’s my girl!” he exclaimed, “That’s my Rosie! Did she say it before?”

“No, that was the first time!” Dany replied excitedly.

Jon looked as if he was about to burst with pride, his chest puffed up and his face beaming. The twinkle in his normally stormy gray eyes made him look like a young man again. Though neither of them were old, Dany once again thought about how much they had been dealing with over the last few months. Now Rose was growing up before their eyes, and he was just so happy as he sat down with Rose, coaxing her to say it again. It wasn’t working, and Rose was simply enjoying the attention with smiles and giggles, but it didn’t bother Jon. 

He wore the pride of hearing his daughter’s first word (and having it be in reference to himself) throughout the entire evening. They hardly discussed anything else, and Dany still had no idea if the barn roof was definitely completed or even how Jon’s day had been. She nearly had to drag him away from Rose’s bedside because he was worried he would miss hearing her say it again. 

“I just can’t believe it!” he said, sitting down on their bed, still grinning like a madman, “She spoke! Our daughter can talk! I mean, talk and know what she’s saying!”

Dany watched as he leaned back on their bed, his legs touching hers as she stood at the edge, hands folded behind his head. “What a day,” Jon said to her, smiling at the ceiling, “Barn roof’ll be finished tomorrow. Rose said her first word. You’re here, that’s always a highlight - did seeing Willa help with your headache?”

“Yes,” Dany said, suddenly nervous, although just as giddy as before. Instinctively, though it had been nearly a year since she last made the gesture, Dany’s hands brushed over her stomach. Still flat, but she smiled quietly knowing that it would soon change. “I - uh - think I can add to your good day.”

“Hmm?” Jon chuckled knowingly, propping himself up, “How’s tha -?” 

He stopped as he saw Dany, standing in front of him, hands placed where they would be if she was…

“Dany?” Jon breathed. His smile was gone, replaced with awestruck seriousness. He didn’t ask the question, but sat up, bringing his hand up to cover one of hers. As he looked up, a small smile, so delicate compared to the one he had worn moments earlier, came over his face. 

Without having to hear the question, Dany nodded, at first slowly and then more vigorously. Any shadows of shock were gone. They weren’t traveling away, abandoning their old lives for an uncertain future. This was their choice. Their family. And it was growing. 

Suddenly, Jon’s hands were around her waist and he stood up, meeting Dany in a searing kiss that lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her arms around him as both grinned as one kiss quickly devolved many tiny kisses from Jon peppering her face. 

“You’re really…?” he asked as he lowered her back to the ground.

She nodded again, leaning in to kiss him once more. “You’re going to be a father again,” she murmured against his lips.

They spoke no more as Jon knelt down in front of her, his hands grazing over her stomach. He smiled as he felt the still-flat plane, and Dany knew if he was thinking about the coming change as well. 

Barely, she heard him whisper a promise: “You are so loved already. So loved.”

~

Sometimes, Dany could not believe the things around her were real. Here she was, Jon nestled over her breast and perfect smile over her face as they lay together in the quiet darkness. Every once in a while, Jon was moving his hand to once again remember that his child was inside of her, but it had not happened recently. She ran her fingers through his hair, scraping her nails gently over the scalp. 

“Are you asleep, my love?” she asked him in a low voice, “Jon?”

“Hmm? No,” Jon said raising his head to look up at her, “No, just lost for a moment.”

“What about?”

“Ah, it’s nothing, really,” he said, leaning to rest his head on his elbow, “It’s just...we never really did things properly, you know?”

Bewildered, Dany stared at him. “What do you mean?” she asked, feeling hurt. _He doesn’t want this baby_ , the fear in the back of her head urged. 

_That can’t be true,_ she argued with herself.

“No, no, Dany,” Jon assured her, seeming to sense her sudden anxiety, “Sorry, that came out wrong. It’s not bad. I just meant, you know, we left Dragonstone and then you got pregnant with Rose on the way. And between that and making a life here...well, I know it’s not really a free folk thing, but I just realized that we never actually got - uh - married.”

He ended the statement with an anxious smile that looked almost like someone who had been caught in the midst of hilarious wrongdoing. Unable to contain her relief, Dany let out a laugh at Jon’s face, which quickly turned to a frown. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, “It’s stupid, I know.”

Now it was her turn to correct. “No, Jon, no. I was laughing wasn’t laughing at what you said. Just at my own thoughts,” she told him, brushing a hand over his chest in reassurance, “Though I have to admit, I never really thought about it - the marriage part.”

“Nor had I,” Jon said, “But we were just laying here together and I was thinking about how much I loved my wife and realized that you, I guess in the most formal of terms, aren’t my wife?”

_Is it possible to love you any more?_ The deepest part of her heart was touched with his words and Dany could not help but lean forward and kiss him again. Giddiness had made its home in her again and she wondered if anyone else had been lucky enough to experience these indescribable feelings. 

“Ask me, then,” she told him between kisses, “Ask me to marry you.”

Pulling apart so that his eyes could capture her gaze, Jon nodded. He brushed strands of silver hair from her eyes before bringing his hand to cup her face. “Dany, my love,” he began, “Will you marry me?”

Grinning, she kissed him once more. “Yes,” she said, “Yes, of course I will! Tomorrow. We’ll be wed tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (10 points if you laughed at the pun) Interrupting the action with a few chapters of fluff this weekend that came about because I realized I couldn't technically describe Dany as Jon's wife while writing. I had a really fun time writing excited Jon because we don't see that side of him much.
> 
> Also, a brief note: someone asked how Willa has plants like lavender virtually at her disposal, but not much nutmeg. She grows lavender indoors near her fire along with several other non-native plants she's been able to collect. She can't grow nutmeg because it comes from a tree, and it doesn't have enough medicinal value to be worth trying (but it's been known as an incredibly valuable commodity, so it's worth having some to trade for things like spyglasses).


	37. The Heart Tree's Witness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might I suggest listening to "Stay A Thousand Years" by Ramin Djawadi for this chapter?

Soft evening wind breathed through the needles and leaves of the lean Haunted Forest trees that curved in embrace of the ground, protecting its inhabitants from the harsh of the north. Cold, but welcome, the wind played at the loose strands of Dany’s silver hair as she waited on the edge of a small forest clearing not far north of her home clearing. 

The villagers of Shadowedge called it The Gods’ Clearing, for in the center stood a single weirwood heart tree, larger than any other most had ever seen in the forest. Stretching tall above the pines, ash, and ironwood that surrounded its home, the tree, Dany imagined, would be a sight to behold from up high as a bird or on the back of a dragon. Many of the red leaves, a dark vermillion that Dany loved, turned down as if they were pointing to the very center of the bone-white trunk that stood watch over its clearing with a carved face thousands of years old, still standing the test of time and weather. It seemed almost apathetic, as if it did not care about the red tears it shed every day, nor the people who had come to visit it. Instead, it simply watched the years, eras, and eons go by, an observer of all that happened beneath its boughs and in its clearing.

As Dany looked on from the shadows, the clouds overhead of The God’s Clearing, which had been looking low and sullen all day, began to part, turning silver as the moon and stars peeked through from the other side. The snowy, untouched land became bathed in pale moonlight and the heart tree looked as if it were glowing. Faintly, light shone through and around the brilliant leaves, outlining their five-pointed shape. Above, in the small patch of sky surrounded by trees, ribbons of color danced across the stars in whispering hues of blue against the ink of night.

Patiently, Dany watched, through the wafts of breath unfurling in front of her, for a sign of movement beckoning her to come forth. 

_ I wonder if I’m supposed to feel any different _ , Dany thought as she surveyed herself in the bit of light that just reached into the shadowed wood. She wasn’t wearing anything different from any other day, since all of her clothes were the same sheepskin and animal fur that free folk used. Although, she had made sure they were pristinely clean. She still wrung her hands from anxiousness - or was it anticipation? And she still knew that tomorrow she would wake up, fetch Rose from Willa’s house, and go about her normal life in Shadowedge just as she had the day before: Jon at her side, Rose on her hip, new baby growing within her. Yet this night was different. Different from all other nights. A night witnessed by the gods that would end with the promise of forever.

As she twirled her hair around a finger, Dany knew she did feel different, whether or not she was supposed to. 

“You do know that you’re already married, don’t you?” Willa had asked earlier as her capable hands worked through Dany’s long, wavy hair. The healer’s collection of beads and shells sat next to her, and every now and then she paused to carefully select one to add to her braided art. It was not often that Willa was given the opportunity to create something of Dany’s hair. The sensation was soothing. Dany felt warmly reminded of mornings in Mereen with Missandei, when they braided each others’ hair before beginning the day, trading stories of their lives and dreams. 

“Southerners have ceremonies,” Dany replied, smiling at the thought, “Like how the free folk present children to the old gods for their second nameday.

Willa sniffed. “Sounds like a lot to do for not much reason,” she said, “Your man steals you. You put up a fight. He keeps you. You’re married. None of this ceremony Southern stuff.” 

“I guess this is just one of those Southern things I’d like to keep.”

She understood where Willa was coming from: to the free folk it  _ did _ sound silly to get married when they thought you were already married. And she was right, in a way. According to their idea of marriage, Jon taking her from Dragonstone did count (even though she didn’t put up a fight). But this night was something more. As much as she considered herself part of the free folk, there were some traditions from Dany’s past that she felt no need to neglect. And having the chance to marry Jon, to truly marry him in the witness of the gods, was one of them. 

It would be in the eyes of all of the gods, if they were looking. Jon had suggested getting married in front of the heart tree like they do in the godswoods in the North. It wasn’t going to be a formal ceremony of any faith, but one they made their own: beneath the open sky in The Gods’ Clearing with nobody but the two of them, the stars, and the heart tree to witness.

Glancing up, Dany smiled at the stars. Quickly, she spotted the Ice Dragon amongst them. It made her think of Saphira and Drogon. Where had the dragons gone now that two of their eggs had hatched? The blue eye of the constellation seemed to twinkle knowingly, and Dany wondered if its soul could have answered her question. It was quite bright, and she imagined the soul to have been an incredibly strong person in life, also calm and gentle. 

Moonmaid chased the Ice Dragon towards the sea. Inside her tonight was the red wanderer - Dany smirked, thinking of Willa and Tormund - they couldn’t have chosen a better night to be married.  _ Even the free folk customs approve _ , she thought, bemused. 

In the silence of the forest, she heard the snow shift as someone approached. Momentarily, Dany stiffened, but she recognized Jon’s figure immediately. As he approached the heart tree, the moonlight came over him, giving him a soft outline in the night. His broad shoulders stretched out and she could tell he was standing extremely straight.  _ Is he as nervous as I am? _ The nerves had come as a surprise - after all, it wasn’t as if she had never seen him before. But it was different this time, wasn’t it? 

At first, she didn’t move. Her mind had stopped her feet from taking any steps into the clearing, keeping her in the shadows, perhaps to ensure that she would never forget this moment as she stared at her future before her. 

A future she had freely chosen. 

Dany watched as Jon bowed his head to the heart tree in silent prayer to the old gods. She waited, giving him his private moment until he had raised his head up again, before walking into the clearing. Out of the shadows she came, moonlight cascading over her to turn her clothes a silvery-white. Her hair looked to be made of braided starlight. As Jon turned to see where her light footsteps came from, she caught his expression. Butterflies took hold inside of her, and Dany thought she may have floated with their wings across the snow to join the Northman standing in the center.  _ Her _ Northman.

They did not speak once she reached his side. Suddenly, she felt very shy, and instead of speaking, she allowed her gaze to be drawn to the apathetic face watching them both. Were its tears from sorrow or joy? 

_ A combination _ , Dany answered silently,  _ as all lives are _ . 

Gently, a large, calloused hand interlaced its fingers with hers. Its thumb drew slowly over her skin, almost reassuring, as if Dany’s nerves were written across her face. Looking up, her violet eyes locked with the gray gaze from Jon, brilliantly intense and yet entirely soft. A small smile came across his face, brightening him more than the moonlight or even the sun ever could. 

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if anything louder could disturb the still of night. 

Voice fanned away by the fluttering butterflies still inside her, Dany nodded, returning his smile with a light one of her own. 

Deftly, Jon produced a long strip of white cloth from his person. He raised up their joined hands and wound the cloth around the pair, bonding them as the heart tree looked on in witness through its red tears. Together, they began the recitation they had chosen, Dany’s voice finally finding its way. 

“In the eyes of the gods, and in the witness of the stars, I am his, and he is mine. From this day, until the end of days.” 

She felt her eyes pricking as Jon’s hand held hers tighter. They let the words sink into the night, carried off with the wind still gently rustling through the clearing, as they continued to hold each other’s gazes. 

Hands still bound by the cloth, Jon brought Dany in close and cupped her face with his free hand. Delicately, he kissed her, and she responded in kind, feeling the caress of his thumb over her cheek damp with the tears that had begun to fall from the joy blossoming where the butterfly wings had beat moments ago. 

“I love you,” he said quietly to his wife, “Now and always.”

“And I love you,” she murmured to her husband, “Forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's actually a wealth of information on the different cultural weddings of this world, so that was fun to play with! 
> 
> "Stay A Thousand Years" is another version of "Mhysa," same words but a very different tone. I read the Ghiscari translation, and it's all about taking freedom back. That's been such a defining part of Dany's story, and it really spoke to me when writing this as I put it on while finishing the chapter (I also listened to some Winterfell ambience to get the landscape right).


	38. After the Weding

Together, husband and wife moved through the darkness from The Gods’ Clearing. Their feet sifted through the powdery, untouched snow as they made their way back to the house in the clearing. The trees above began to thin as they came to the edge of the forest and Dany, nervously and excitedly, lurched forward a bit more quickly

“Wait,” Jon said before Dany could step from the trees, his hand restraining her. 

She looked back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replied, smiling, “I just want to do this properly. Hold still.” Releasing her hand, he brought his arms around her knees and back, bringing her up to his chest and grinning once she was settled. 

“You look incredible,” he told her, looking entirely pleased with himself.

“Incredible enough not to be allowed to walk?” she quipped.

Jon chuckled. “Let me do this, Dany. The groom always carries the bride.”

_ Bride, wife _ . It had happened. They were married.  _ Almost _ , a small voice reminded her in the back of her mind. Warm heat settled low inside of her, awaiting what was to come. Smiling at the thought and feeling, she reached up to press her lips to Jon’s only to have him duck away from her, craning his neck. She began to frown, though her face immediately changed to surprise when one of his hands squeezed her bottom. 

An impish grin played at Jon’s features. “Patience, Dany,” he said, “You know there’s still a feast.”

“Jon, there isn’t a feast. We’re going into an empty home,” she said, rolling her eyes before pausing to add, “We are, aren’t we?” 

Although Dany still held to the Dothraki belief that important things should be done under the stars, it was very cold and Jon drew the line at having them consummate their marriage outside when their home was next to them. She did not argue very much, knowing that she would prefer to be entirely focused on her husband ( _ husband _ ) instead of whether or not her lips had taken on the color of her eyes.

He chuckled again. “Aye, I suppose so. But at least let me get through the door with you first.”

As he said he would, Jon carried her to the door, deftly opening it and sliding through with Dany still in his arms. Once the door closed behind them, he did not set her down, but leaned in to steal a kiss from his wife, quickly turning her breathless at his eagerness. 

“What if I was looking forward to a feast?” she teased, brushing her lips over his cheek.

“I could arrange one,” he responded huskily, nuzzling her face to turn and kiss her again, speaking a breath away from her lips, “And this could wait.”

His kiss was deep and greedy. Jon took her bottom lip between his teeth, making Dany dizzy with the sudden rush of sensations. “Bed,” she breathed, arms reaching around Jon’s neck to allow her hands to thread through his hair and keep lips pressed to hers. Poking her tongue out, she was quickly granted passage into his mouth and gained a low sigh from deep in his chest. His arms tightened around her as they crossed the room to their bed.

Jon laid her across the bed, pausing their exploration momentarily to kick off his boots and removing Dany’s as well. She vaguely heard the thunk of them onto the floor before he was overtop of her, resuming their shared plunder of each others’ mouths. Insistently, her hands tugged at his clothes with the carnal need to have his skin pressed against hers. 

Urgency ruled her actions. And, though they had done this so many times before, the anticipation in Dany’s stomach fluttered as though it was their first time again. As Jon broke the kiss to remove his clothes, Dany took the time to pull hers off as well, sending them to join their boots on the floor. 

Top bare, she shifted under him to remove her trousers, but his hands caught her wrists and pinned them above her head as he dipped down to kiss her again. “Patience,” he murmured.

Dany’s flesh came alive as Jon’s chest brushed against hers. Attentive, he quickly freed her wrists and her hands immediately gravitated to hold his back, pressing him closer to her as Jon delved from her lips to kiss down her neck, along her clavicle, and down the creamy, pricked skin to her breasts. 

“Gentle,” Dany breathed, hands winding in his hair and back arching as Jon rolled his tongue over the first nipple. He acknowledged her with a nod, continuing his delicate ministrations as if he were handling glass. Lips pursed, he sucked gently on her nipple, causing Dany to close her eyes, fisting the bed as a wave of pleasure spread from her head down to her curling toes. She squirmed underneath him while Jon gave her second nipple the same ravishing attention. 

A low laugh broke from his lips, humming against Dany’s breast. Once more, he laved his tongue over her before beginning downwards, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. 

Reaching the end of her skin, he paused to pepper sweet kisses along her stomach before thumbing at the hem of her trousers. “Mm,” Dany mewled, immediately raising her hips to let Jon rid her of the rest of her clothes. His hands traveled up her bare legs, brushing lightly over her center and sending shivers down Dany’s spine as she yearningly canted her hips towards him.

He did not stay, but settled to join Dany once again, lovingly kissing her as he took up a place at her side. Jon trailed a single finger slowly up her body. Over her stomach, between her breasts, up her neck to her lips. He traced over them and around her face, smiling as Dany stared at him, unable to do more than breathe, her body sparking with need. Leaning in, he kissed her again and his finger left her face to retrace its steps. 

At the end of its trail, Jon circled once over her clit, causing Dany to moan into the kiss and roll her hips again. Her eyes stared pleadingly into his as she tried to draw him in. Obligingly, he slipped his finger inside her, beckoning more sounds to escape her lips. 

“ _ Oh _ ,” she gasped as he began to bring his finger slowly in and out of her, making her center slick with pleasure and Dany desperate for more. 

“Inside,” she breathed, locking eyes with him, “I need you inside.”

“Soon, my Dany,” Jon promised quietly, kissing her once again, “I want to watch my wife first.”

At that, he added another finger, smiling, and Dany’s eyes closed again. Lights popped in the darkness and she felt Jon so close to her face. Her lips parted as his fingers coaxed moans of pleasure from her again and again, running in and out of her with silken ease. 

Her body began to tremble, the edge of release deliciously palpable. She gripped his wrist to keep him inside, but Jon’s fingers slip deftly out of her and was quickly replaced by his hard length against her, eager and begging to be inside. Her legs fell open more, greedily trying to feel even more. 

Kissing her, Jon positioned himself at her entrance before burying himself inside her wet heat. “ _ Oh _ ,” Dany gasped again, arms coming around to pull him in more as their eyes met. For a moment, they stayed perfectly still save for the rising and falling of their chests. Jon brushed away a few strands of hair that had fallen into Dany’s face, looking down at her both hungry and with wonder. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured. 

She rose up to meet his lips, arms coming around him and hips rising to bring him deeper inside. They began to move as one, clinging to each other as their bodies found a slow and melodious rhythm to savor every second of time they were joined. Their hands clutched together as if they were still beneath the heart tree’s boughs, bonded by the cloth. Every languid stroke elicited sounds of pleasure against each others’ skin as they quickly rose toward a climax that had been building since he picked her up outside. 

Dany found Jon’s lips again, kissing him as her back arched and need overcame her. With her free hand, she tried to pull him deeper, to rid them of any gap where light or air could escape, aching to feel all of him. There was a frenzy to their movements now; slow, and yet all so desperate to reach their release. 

The world seemed to come undone around Dany. The room melted away, the bed came loose as the feathers drifted off one by one into nothing. There was only Jon. The feeling of him against her, inside of her. Thrusting, kissing, clinging. More she trembled, trying to hold onto him, needing him to hold her closer. To give her more. Closer, tighter, harder. She could hear his ragged breathing, feel his movements become more raw as he took what he needed from her. 

“Jon,” she panted, unable to say more than his name as Dany felt herself unraveling more with each stroke.

_ So close _ .  _ So close _ .

Once more, he thrust into her and then she was falling, her wanton cries breaking the black silence and being joined so soon after by Jon. Through the emptiness that contained only one being, a pair bonded for life, they fell. 

Back onto the bed they collapsed, thoroughly spent, holding each other as the last vestiges of perfect bliss gripped them. Dany felt her walls contract around Jon with each tiny movement or tremble as their chests rapidly rose and fell for air. She shivered as he slipped out of her, the warm feeling of their combined pleasure between her legs.

Shakily, Dany brought one slender hand up to trace along Jon’s face. A sheen of sweat coated his features, still awestruck from moments ago. He watched her with dark eyes, his own hands tracing tingling patterns along the flesh of her back. Dany ran her fingers over the taut muscles of his cheek and across his beard, memorizing his face as she went. 

“ _ Mahrazhkem _ ,” she murmured, lazily stroking over his lips.

He kissed the tips of her fingers. “Wife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the short pause yesterday. Writer's block and a new addiction to Rizzoli & Isles has poor effects on a person.
> 
> Back to life, I think, after this chapter. Tormund is still away, Sansa and Tyrion are still in Shadowedge, what could possibly go wrong?


	39. A True Leader

Something was tickling her nose. Dany scrunched it up, not yet willing to pull her arm from the leaden position of slumber to knock whatever it was away. 

“Mm,” she grumbled.

The tickling stopped, and she moved her head to settle more comfortably into her warm cocoon. Then it happened again, only this time she felt the finger slide down the top of her nose. 

“Mm, stop,” she said again, turning her head away. Muffled laughter followed and, reluctantly, Dany opened her eyes to filtered dawn light and a smiling Jon in front of her. 

She pouted, glaring at the man who had awoken her. “Wha’ryou doing?” she sighed. His finger was poised to stroke her nose again.

“Good morning to you as well,” he replied, “And, nothing, really. You?”

“Deciding if I made a good choice in marrying my husband,” Dany replied testily, stretching. She noticed, for the first time, that Jon was not actually in the bed with her, but off to the side. “Why aren’t you in bed with me?”

“I tried to make your marital decision easier and I’ve made breakfast for you,” he said, “But...if you don’t want anything…”

“No, I do,” Dany said hastily, her stomach had begun shouting about its need to feed the baby as soon as Jon said the word, “But - ah - first.” She leaned over from the bedside and kissed him sweetly, threading a hand through his hair as she did. 

Jon responded, the hand that had been stroking her nose traveling down under the furs over Dany’s naked body until it reached her center. Instinctively, her hips canted toward him as a chill shivered up her spine and she sighed into his mouth, deepening their kiss.

Then, the hand withdrew, and a whisper played across Dany’s lips. “Eat. First,” he rasped, chastely kissing her once more before standing up to cross over to the fire. 

Lightheaded from the sudden tease, Dany rolled onto her back first and smiled to herself. Just another day of loving Jon and a night she would not soon forget.  _ My husband _ . When she said it before, it sounded so natural. Until Jon had mentioned it two days ago, she had never really thought about what she called him in her head. The villagers always called him “your man” when they didn’t refer to him by name, but in her head she had only ever said “Jon.” Or just, “he,” and knew who she was referring to since it was her own thoughts.

But the new word for him had rolled off her tongue so deliciously and she immediately committed to saying it often. 

“I know porridge is nothing special,” her husband was saying by the fire as Dany swung out of the bed to stand up. As soon as she stood, her stomach changed its mind, declaring war, and she swayed with the wave of nausea, desperately trying to focus on what Jon was saying instead.

“Maybe when we pick up Rose we can just steal the rest of Willa’s nutmeg. That would be tasty, wouldn’t - on second thought, maybe we’ll eat nothing. It’s all right, Dany.”

Jon left the porridge on the table and came to support her, a hand on her arm and around her waist as he helped her shakily sit back down on the bed. 

“Are you okay?”

She didn’t respond, still trying to fight the losing war against the sensation creeping into her mouth. She could just smell the breakfast Jon had made. Warm porridge, nearly flavorless, but anything edible would smell horrible right now.

“What do you need?” Jon asked from far away. Vaguely, she heard him move, but did not dare move her position to look as her mouth began to taste metallic.  _ Please don’t _ .

“Dany,” Jon said, now alarmingly worried, “Dany, you’re turning white.”

_ Lost _ .

She bent over, becoming violently sick in the basin Jon had placed at her feet. Instantly, she felt his hands holding back her hair and rubbing slow circles on her back as she retched. Gasping for air, she heaved as her stomach made threats that Dany knew were not idle.

“It’s okay,” he said calmly, “Just let it out, Dany. You’ll be okay.”

After vomiting once more, she stayed bent over and heaving for a few moments after. Tears silently streamed down her face, mixing with the sudden sheen of sweat that had appeared. She felt cold and shaky, unable to take a breath that didn’t shudder. Still, Jon rubbed her back, though he had stopped speaking.

Slowly, carefully, Dany raised back to sit up and not trigger her nausea again. Feebly, she grimaced at her husband. “Sorry,” she muttered through her teeth, afraid to open her mouth.

“Do you want some water?” he asked. Dany nodded, still not trusting herself to speak.

The water was soothing, though she barely took more than the few sips needed to rid her mouth of the awful taste. Feeling it slink down her throat and into her traitorous body reinvigorated her nausea and she was afraid that any more water would send her back over for another meeting with the basin. She laid her head on Jon’s chest, feeling more tired than when she had woken up. 

“Gods, I hate this part,” Jon said as he held her close, “I hate seeing you like this and not being able to do anything but hold your hair.”

“It’s not your fault,” she sighed, muffled from his chest.

A note of sarcastic laugh came out of his mouth. “Dany, you do realize how having a baby works, right?” he asked.

Dany looked up, raising a tired hand to graze over his cheek. “You being here is enough,” she said, “Holding my hair or not. You being my  _ husband _ and our childrens’ father is enough.”

Regarding her for a moment, Jon kissed her hairline. “You’re the strongest person I know,” he told her, “And I’ll always be here to hold your hair. Even after the fifteenth child.”

“Don’t get too carried away,  _ mahrazhkem anni _ .”

~

They took the morning slowly, allowing Dany to rest until she felt well enough to place one foot in front of the others. Briefly, she actually considered asking Jon to go into Shadowedge without her, but was determined to not let nausea win. Additionally, though Dany would scarcely admit it to herself, she was scared to be alone. 

When she was pregnant with Rose, they were always walking and pushing on. And always together. In her entire early pregnancy, she never left Jon’s side. He made her feel safe at her weakest, at a time when she knew that she could hardly do more than walk blindly onwards. The thought that Jon would have to leave at some point, to hunt or mend a roof or something that Dany wasn’t involved in, played at a dark fear in her heart. 

She tried to push it away with the rest of her ill feelings as they walked the path to Shadowedge. They held hands, partially because they wanted to and partially because Dany’s steps were still entirely unsteady.  _ I may have overdone it _ , she thought about the energy of yesterday and how exhausted she was currently feeling. Willa’s feather bed was dancing through her thoughts as they walked, and Dany had a feeling they would not be leaving Shadowedge again until she took a comfortable nap.

Village activity was low for the day.  _ Extraordinarily low _ , Dany thought as they walked through town towards Willa’s home. Though she waved to a few of the children out playing (hide-and-seek, it seemed like), none of their parents, nor any other villagers or people passing through were around. She could hear them, however. A group of them with raised voices right near the central firepit. 

“I have a feeling we’re about to walk into something unpleasant,” she murmured to Jon. 

“Unfortunately, I’m thinking the same thing,” he replied.

In the center of Shadowedge, a ragged group of villagers, traders, and the remaining ship party from the North.

“If these  _ kneelers _ want to keep using our hospitality, they better start - ”

“Quiet, Moregg!” Willa snapped, “What hospitality are you calling  _ ours _ ?”

Moregg the trader spread his arms wide, gesturing vaguely to the village. Willa, and several other villagers, snorted. “Since when did you become part of Shadowedge?” Willa snarled to general mumbles of agreement. Dany could see, as they slid towards the outlying onlookers towards the center, that her eyes sparked with an uncharacteristic fury. 

“Since when did the weaklings who hid from the Dead start becoming chiefs?” Moregg spat, looking the healer up and down with contempt.

“Mind your tongue,” Dorand warned. Already imposing with his height rivaling young trees, the free folk man looked dangerous. Dany had gotten the impression from the last time she had seen Moregg that the two did not get along - nor did Moregg seem to get along with anyone else.

As she and Jon tried to reach the center of the gathering, a clearer picture of the argument started coming into view. Willa and Dorand seemed to be framing the fight, although Tyrion was close beside them looking both angry and observant, as if he was analyzing whether or not it was his place to speak. 

Moregg stood alone on the other side, his greasy dark hair sticking out at angles and giving him a manic appearance. He shook a fist, pointing to the ground to punctuate his words as he spoke again and Dany could see the bit of spittle forming at his lips. 

“I’ll mind it once you tell this _kneeling_ _bitch_ to get out of my house or learn what kneeling means here!” he threatened and, for the first time, Dany saw the auburn hair of the person he was pointing to. _Sansa?_ The woman looked far from the poised Lady of Winterfell that Dany knew. She was shaking on the ground, her face blotchy and her eyes averted from the argument taking place above her. Her hair and clothes were snowy and in disarray, as if she had been dragged several feet.

Before she could react, before anyone could react, Jon had left her side and lunged for Moregg, stopped only by Dorand restraining him. “ _ What _ did you say?” he roared, surprising the others who had not noticed their arrival.

“Jon!” Dany said sharply at the same time Willa hissed, “He’s not worth it.”

Deciding not to insert herself into the argument, Dany instead leaned down next to Sansa, placing the softest touch on her shoulder. “Come on,” she said quietly as Sansa shakily looked up at her, “Come with me. You don’t need to be here anymore.

Nodding vaguely, Sansa took Dany’s hand and allowed herself to be taken through the group and away from raised voices that now included Jon. Dany took Sansa only a few homes away to Willa’s house and led her inside.

Her friend’s home was warm and perfumed as usual, and Dany prayed that none of the smells would set off her still-present nausea. It was apparent that her attention needed to be focused on something other than sickness right now.  

“Dany! Sansa! Is everything okay?” a young voice exclaimed when they entered the house. Enda sat with Rose on the floor, looking extremely apprehensive as the two women entered.

Sansa, who had not said anything yet, walked wight-like to sit down next to Enda and Rose, faintly smiling as Rose grinned at her and offered up the toy she was playing with. Sansa took the toy, making Rose giggle as she shook it from side to side and made the beads rattle. Her shaking was subsiding, though she still looked to be in shock.

“What happened, Enda?” Dany asked immediately, coming to sit as well, “Why are you here with Rose?”

The girl’s eyes were wide as she began to explain. “I came to see Willa for some help and she was explaining about the herbs she was using and then we - we heard someone scream outside,” she looked surreptitiously to Sansa, “And then a man’s voice. Really angry. And Willa said to stay here and mind Rose and left. I’ve been hearing the shouting ever since.”

“It was me,” Sansa said quietly, not looking up from playing with Rose though her eyes stopped focusing on what was in front of her, “I screamed. At that trader who was yelling. He - he came into the house I was in and dragged me out. He said it was his, but I’d been staying there. He...he said...” 

Trailing off, Sansa shook her head and focused again on Rose and their game. Dany could imagine what someone like Moregg had said to her, given what she had heard outside.  _ I would have screamed too _ . “Enda,” she suggested, “Why don’t you go check on the other children and make sure they’re all accounted for?”

If there was any protest or worry, Enda did not show it. She nodded once, looking at Sansa wide-eyed once more, before getting up and leaving Willa’s house.

“I made a complete fool of myself,” Sansa said once Willa’s door had closed again.

“You didn’t - ”

“Yes, I  _ did _ ! What type of leader will my people view me as if a man barging into the place I’m staying turns me into a screaming mess?” Sansa agonized, “They’ve already watched me fail at keeping my people safe, be left here because nobody believed I could cross from here to Winterfell after the storm. And now they’ve seen me weak and cowering, unable to even speak.”

Her blue eyes flicked bitterly towards the door before returning to look at the silver-haired woman who could not help but feel mildly responsible for Sansa’s current demeanour, given her declarations of failure. Therefore, Dany’s surprise was instantly etched across her face at Sansa’s next question. “How did you do it?” Sansa blurted out, “I - I know you said you wouldn’t help me, but how did you go from nothing to what you are? You ended slavery in Slavers’ Bay, you united the Dothraki, became the Queen of Mereen. You would have never reacted like I did back there - the first time I ever saw you show even a hint of being anything but unwavering was two days ago! I don’t think anyone in their right mind would say I’m unwavering.”

“Is that why you haven’t taken the title of Queen yet?” Dany asked. 

Sansa nodded. “Arya says it’s a terrible idea. That I’m already in the role so I should have the title since Bran won’t take it and Jon, well, you know what we thought. But you saw me back there. You know why we had to come here. How can I call myself a Queen when I make these mistakes? When I’m unable to defend my people or myself? I was ready to turn to someone that I drove away for help because I couldn’t succeed.”

“Sansa,” Dany said gently, “You can’t deny yourself or your people leadership because you feel you’ve made mistakes or because a piece of scum like Moregg threatened you. There has only been once in my life that someone ever threatened me like Moregg did to you, and it was my brother. And I hit him with a belt. I don’t know if I would have reacted any different from you if someone like Moregg came into where I slept. But I do know that you should not model your future leadership after mine. My life, my time as a leader, was ruled by my family’s words: Fire and Blood. Perhaps with the ideals of making a better world, but in the end, did I really? 

“You don’t call yourself a Queen, or even a leader, because of your achievements or your birthright. You call yourself a Queen because people want you to be one. Haven’t the stories of history taught us that? Your people trust in you to help them. They viewed you as important enough not to risk in the aftermath of a storm that, frankly, very few free folk would have wanted to go out in. And they rushed to your defense when someone threatened you - nobody would have expected you to react any differently than you did. They believe you’re their Queen, even if you don’t believe it just yet.”

“Why did you leave, then?” Sansa asked curiously, “You had people who believed that you were their Queen.”

“Because I didn’t want to be ruled by fire and blood,” she replied, looking at Rose, “When Jon convinced me to leave...everything was thrown into such a harsh perspective. People said they believed I was their Queen because they feared me. Knew what I was capable of. And I was scared of what I had become...what I could still become if given the chance. I wanted to be loved. Jon showed me that love when I thought it was all gone, and I just couldn’t turn away from it again. It wasn’t worth it.”

Rose glanced up at Dany with her big violet eyes, the only part of her not to favor Jon so heavily. “Ah?” she said happily when she saw her mother.

Reaching her hand over Rose’s head, she gently smoothed the brown curls that Willa had undoubtedly gotten to yesterday. They were brushed and beaded with tiny braids. “Yes, I love you too, Rosie,” Dany cooed briefly before continuing, “I’m better being here. Better not trying to lead people into war or into a new dynasty. I’m a better Dany than a Daenerys Targaryen.

“But you care about your people, Sansa, as much as they care about you. Even after everything between you and I, you came here for your people. And you’re sitting here, asking someone whose leadership you openly contested how you can do better. Arya is right.”

Before either woman could say any more, the door opened and Willa, Jon, and Tyrion trailed inside. All three still looked considerably flustered, though more settled than when Dany and Sansa had left. Immediately, Jon came over to where she and Sansa were seated on the floor.

“Are you all right?” he asked Sansa. 

The redhead nodded. “Thank you, Jon,” she said, “For coming in like that. It...really shook me up.”

“He won’t be lurking around anymore, Sansa,” Willa said from beside the fire, “Said if he ever showed that ugly face in Shadowedge again, we’d pitch him off the cliff. Nobody needs filth like that around.”

“You’re sure you aren’t hurt?” Tyrion asked. 

“No,” Sansa said, “Just shaken. But, I’m better now. Thanks to...to Dany.”

Dany looked up, surprised at hearing her name come from Sansa’s mouth. She felt Jon’s hands grasp her shoulder from behind, knowing immediately that he was equally as stunned. Perhaps all the earth had not been scorched between them. The hesitant smile Sansa gave her seemed to confirm the thought, and Dany returned it.

Before she could respond, however, a steaming cup floated down in front of her face courtesy of a brown hand. “And you can be okay thanks to me,” Willa said to Dany, shoving the cup into her hands, “Drink it. Because if I ever hear that you turned  _ white _ again and didn’t tell me the minute I walked through this door, I’ll chuck you off the cliff too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always had a vision of Sansa as the person who tries so hard because she feels the need to prove herself (above and beyond what was actually needed such as when she couldn't get past the idea of Northern independence and just work with Dany for like half a minute...but I'm also, as you can tell, a huge Targaryen fan) - in effect, she's been underestimated every step of the way. And also someone who never really had a chance to deal with her trauma, but just had to keep going. What happens when you look at yourself and realize that you don't think anybody believes you're good enough and neither do you? It would be pretty jarring to have your, for all intents and purposes, former rival say, "Yeah, you are good enough." 
> 
> So I could write about 6 dozen pages from Sansa's perspective on the buildup to this one conversation, but Dany is just ready to move on. And she's dead tired. Because Jon. And baby. 
> 
> In other news, I'm finally learning Dothraki grammar, the chapter title can be taken as extremely ambiguous, and the red wanderer is still in Moonmaid. Good time to steal a wife, don't you think?


	40. Azho Nozho

Willa was missing.

When Dany walked into her friend’s house four days later with Rose and Ghost, she found only empty bed with furs awry, two overturned baskets of plants, a knife pointed down into the floor, and an extremely amused Sansa, who had been staying in Willa’s home since the incident with Moregg. Although Shadowedge had ridden itself of his ilk, Sansa felt a lot safer not staying on her own any longer. And, like most other people in the village, her trust in Willa was implicit beyond anyone else.

“You...don’t look well,” Sansa observed easily, immediately offering her arms to take Rose. The radical change in the two women’s relationship was immediately evident. Since their discussion on Willa’s floor, Sansa had become much less withdrawn. She seemed to have accepted Dany’s refusal to help them with the slaver problem, and did not say anything more about it, though Dany could tell that her mind was still working on the issue. 

Instead, she acted much like Jon had when they walked across Westeros, asking Dany about Essos and her travels there, and trading amusing stories about Jon during childhood. So far, Dany’s favorite was when Jon tried swordplay against a barrel that he did not expect to be full of wine and was soaked when he stabbed too roughly. She was waiting for the proper time to tell him that she could just see his pretty burgundy undertones in the sunlight.

“Nor do I feel particularly well,” Dany replied tiredly, sitting down on her friend’s rumpled bed, “Where’s Willa?”

“She was dragged off this morning,” Sansa said all too happily, setting Rose on her usual floor mat and tugging the knife out of the floor, “She put up quite a fight, but in the end she was taken. I’ve just been straightening up. It looked a lot worse before.”

Shaking her head to make sure her ears weren’t malfunctioning like the rest of her body, Dany looked at Sansa absolutely bewildered, “Dragged off? What do you mean _dragged_ _off_?”

“Dany,” Sansa said, motioning for her to calm down, “Willa’s okay. It was just Tormund. He said they would be back later.”

“Ah. So when you said dragged off you meant…”

“Yes,” Sansa said blushingly, “That kind of dragged off. It was...an interesting experience.”

She turned away quickly to fix the toppled plants, making sure to remove any broken ends that had experienced the unexpected pruning job and piling them onto Willa’s table to be sorted out later. For a little while, Dany found herself lost in thought. She had not told Willa about what she had seen the day Tormund left to guide the party from Winterfell back past the Wall (nor even Jon), instead letting her friend keep the ideas of romance to herself if she wanted. In turn, Willa had not mentioned it aside from Dany catching her grinning whenever she thought nobody was looking. 

Whatever had happened after Dany and Rose had backed out of the house must have been intense for Tormund to have come back and immediately taken her from her home in true free folk tradition.  _ Wait _ , Dany thought,  _ if Tormund is back, then - _

“They’ve returned with your garrons?” Dany asked.

“They should be here by nightfall,” Sansa said, “Tormund came on ahead and sent a few of the villagers to meet my men on the last leg of the journey.”  

“So then it’s back to the North?”

Sansa shrugged. “Tomorrow morning. What’s left of it I suppose,” she replied. At the sight of Dany’s face, she added, “And I’ll work with it as best I can. You were right, what you said, I don’t want to be a leader through fear. Even if you had said yes, thinking that somehow coming up here to ask you to solve our problems the way you did in Slavers’ Bay was wrong. You’re not that person anymore and...admittedly, I’m glad that you aren’t. I’m glad to not be either.”

Smirking, Dany nodded, “So am I.”

~

The few Northmen and a dozen garrons arrived with their Shadowedge escort at twilight. Having gained an eye for horses during her time with the Dothraki and having not seen one since they passed under the Wall, Dany was very eager to inspect them. As Sansa and Tyrion spoke to those who had come, she tugged Jon (holding Rose) around to look at the steeds. 

Most were dark in coat, so unlike the flashy herds of all colors across the Dothraki Sea or the sleek, well-bred animals of nobility. Dany did spot a bright chestnut among the ranks, sticking out like a sun in the gloaming. Her favorite horse, however, was a huge liver-colored stallion with tall stockings on each leg. He would have looked extremely fierce with his intense amber gaze, save for the wide, white stripe that ran down his face, giving him a very boyish appearance for a horse. 

When he walked, he looked as though he was on unsturdy legs, and Dany expected that one would have to stand still to look imposing. 

“What kind of garron is  _ he _ ?” she remarked to Jon when she first saw him amongst the other horses, “I’ve never seen one so big. Or clumsy.”

“The men said they took the lot of horses offered from Lord Norrey, he’s one of the mountain clan chiefs. I think he’s just overlarge for a mountain horse. But he seems to have held up well,” Jon replied, eyeing the liver stallion. 

_ They went to the northern mountains for these horses? Is the Southern North as empty as the true north? _ She had heard Jon speak of the mountain clans in the North. They lived past Last Hearth, and luckily took up the call against the Army of the Dead before they were destroyed like House Umber. But it was a far way to go for horses. 

“Walks like a sailor who’s never stepped on land,” she observed a bit disdainfully. 

“Aye, but you didn’t see him being ridden when they came in,” Jon countered, admiration in his voice, “Graceful beast with a rider on him.”

Dany looked at Jon, raising an eyebrow. “Oh?” she said devilishly, pulling his hand along to approach the horse. As Jon noticed what she was hinting at, he stopped.

“No, Dany,” he cautioned. 

“Why not?” came the innocent reply.

She could tell Jon was doing some very quick thinking to defend his words. “Because,” he started, grey eyes darting back and forth, “Because you’re - you’re pregnant! You’ve been sick all week. And you don’t know the horse.  _ And _ you haven’t got a saddle.”

Smiling, she turned back and stood on her toes to whisper in Jon’s ear, lips caressing lightly over the lobe, “It’s all right,  _ mahrazhkem _ , I can do it bareback too.” Leaving Jon stuttering, she walked slowly to the horse.

The liver stallion looked up as Dany came over, hand tentatively extended towards him with the palm facing up. His white nostrils flared wide as he tilted his muzzle toward her hand and she felt the hot air blow onto her hand in greeting. A brave horse indeed, he pressed his velvety nose into Dany’s hand for a moment and did not move as she approached his side, but watched curiously. 

Up close, he was very tall, even taller than Drogo’s favorite red stallion as Dany remembered.  _ This is either going to go well or be an extreme embarrassment,  _ she thought, conscious that not only Jon was watching her. The stallion seemed to guess her thoughts, for he lowered his head and Dany was able to take a fist of mane in her left hand. She stretched to reach his withers, so high off the ground, and ignored the warning “Dany” she heard uttered from behind. 

“ _ At, akat, sen _ ,” she grunted the last number as she heaved herself up from the ground, arms very angrily protesting at the less than graceful mount onto the great horse who began moving before she could sit up properly. Nevertheless, she made it atop him and he was indeed very tall. 

Although it had been a long time since she had truly ridden a horse, Dany remembered it like she had been on the rolling plains in the morning. Squeezing with her calves, she urged the stallion forward into a very graceful walk. Gone was the clumsy horse with too-long legs that had minds of their own, his gait was smooth and comfortable, gliding over the snowy field with ease. She could see why Jon admired him so.

_ This can’t be just a garron _ , Dany thought. She had always imagined the surefooted horses as stout and scruffy, like the others in this herd. But this stallion was a surefooted as the rest, perhaps even more so with a rider on him. Any  _ khal _ would have considered him a terrific prize if he was this fluid in his other gaits.  _ Let’s find out _ , Dany thought gleefully, certain that it showed on her face as she urged the horse into a steady trot. 

It felt as though she was gently floating over the ground. The horse’s light and airy trot was easy to sit to and almost relaxing. Squeezing him once more, Dany pushed him into a lofty canter and found herself grinning even more broadly as they circled around the herd. Once more she circled before sitting back to slow the horse into a walk and then a halt. The stallion, so engaged before, eased into his relaxed appearance that Dany had first seen as she leaned down to firmly pat his neck. 

She dismounted, sliding slowly off his tall back and being sure to bend her legs at the landing just as Irri had taught her (“Good rule for always, but special for when you’re with child,  _ khaleesi _ . It is known.”). With one more pat, she turned away to find a small group of people watching her including Jon and Rose, Sansa, and, surprisingly, a mildly disheveled Willa returned from her kidnapping. 

“Are you done or do I have to hold my breath longer?” Jon asked, looking a mixture of anxious and sly enjoyment. 

“Stop it,” Willa admonished, shoving him playfully, “I didn’t know you could ride like that, Dany.”

Dany shrugged bashfully. “I’ve been around horses before,” she said, “You were right, Jon. I feel a little bad for saying he walked with sea legs.” She glanced back at the stallion who had rejoined the herd and was nosing in the snow for a few frozen mouthfuls. His ears pricked when he spotted her and he paused momentarily, nostrils flaring again, before resuming his quest.

“Keep him, then,” Sansa said suddenly. 

Everyone turned to stare at her, Dany making no effort to close her mouth which had fallen open. Sansa nodded in confirmation, gesturing to the horse, “There are only seven of us with twelve horses. I insist you keep him. House Norrey can get on with one less horse.”

Still gaping in shock and wide-eyed, Dany turned to Jon who returned the stare with a very “if you must” look hiding the still-sly enjoyment look he had as well. She looked back at Sansa and, slowly, nodded, her gape turning to a grin. 

Sansa smiled, taking Dany’s hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, “I think he’ll be quite happy here.”

“Although,” Jon said, “I think he may need a bigger barn. His head may go through the roof of our current one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of fluff to cover ground, but a little elaboration on my end:
> 
> So this chapter title literally means "gift horse" and, although Dany doesn't really broach the subject, giving the gift of a horse to someone is an extreme act of gratitude for her because of her time with the Dothraki. It's a symbol of one of Dany's homes, and now, in a way, she has all three. The horse is also based off of my soulmate horse from real life who is very enormous and really does walk like a drunk sailor when he's not under saddle.
> 
> And then we have Willa's kidnapping, which, perhaps, she can be coerced into telling more about later?


	41. Night Ride

Life seemed empty and quiet without the visitors. Though Dany had initially looked forward to their lives becoming less hectic and more usual, she found herself missing the presence of the others, particularly Sansa, which she had become accustomed to over the two months they were there. 

What had happened when they returned? What did they tell everyone? How did they decide to address the slavers? How did they decide to address anything? And did Lord Norrey mind losing his horse?

It wasn’t that she wished for them to stay or even for her and Jon to take their family and return to the South. Dany just felt as if she had simultaneously gained and lost the same close friend. There was something in her life to miss now, in a less sorrowful way than before. Not missing like Jorah or Missandei, but a missing that made her anxious to hear from them again. She felt as if her pocket of life had been cracked open to let other peoples’ lives bleed through. Though she had traveled over so much of Westeros and Essos, though she knew the true expanse of the world, suddenly Dany felt the breadth of life in a different way as her thoughts drifted to living people far away instead of the memories of those long gone.

“It would be nice if Shadowedge had a rookery,” Sansa said to Dany as they were readying the horses to leave on the morning of their departure, “I would love to write.”

“You’ll have to come and visit instead with news from the South,” Dany told her, “When there isn’t a storm, the journey is only about a week if you move at a good pace. Although perhaps next time, I’ll be calling you Your Grace?”

Sansa blushed. “Sansa is fine,” she said, “You can always call me Sansa.”

“Sansa,” Dany said warmly, taking the woman’s hand, “I wish you good fortune. May we meet again.” 

“May we meet again,” Sansa agreed, adding, “Perhaps with one more child next time.”

Dany’s hand slid instinctively to her stomach. Under her clothes, as it had been last time, it was not yet noticeable that she was pregnant unless you were Jon skating your lips over the naked curve between her hips. Willa now expected that Dany was nearly three months along. Her nausea and fatigue were still evident, but growing less intrusive and allowing Dany’s color to be less white or green according to Jon. 

This was enjoyable for several reasons, but most notably because Dany felt like she was actually Rose’s mother again. Her heart still lurched when her memories turned to Rose’s first nameday, which Dany could scarcely remember having been sick to the point of bedridden. Of course, Rose scarcely understood and could hardly bear any ill feelings towards her mother and her unborn sibling, but guilt still wracked Dany’s stomach. 

Rose said her second word on her nameday. 

_ Mama _ .

She had pointed from her father’s arms to a clammy, shivering, ghost-like woman in bed and said, “Mama?” And instead of responding as Jon had done with the first utterance of “Papa,” Dany had been in a fitful sleep. In a dream more ominous than she had experienced since Rose was born, she had been standing on a windy beach so loud she could not hear the sea. Below her feet, white sand streaked with red began to sink. Dany called out, panicked to be alone and feeling as though help was just out of reach, but the only answer was thunderous, pounding wind and a chill dripping down her spine. 

Rose said “Mama” again a couple days later, finally gaining the appropriate reaction from her mother, and Dany decided not to mention her dream to Jon and cause him more worry. After that, the morning sickness had begun ebbing away Dany felt like a person instead of a wraith. But she continued to visit the sinister beach in her dreams, each time more chilling than before.

During the day, however, while Jon had been working on small renovations to the barn, Dany had taken to spending most of her time with Rose sharing a new favorite activity: Embar. 

They called the great liver horse “Embar” for the sea in Valyrian. Literally, because of how he walked. Privately, however, Dany named him after the sea for his calm, stout manner. And though she had never named a horse before - that not being the Dothraki way - Jon said that she couldn’t call him “The Liver” forever, and Embar suited him well. The stallion had adjusted quickly to his new surroundings, having been able to fit in the barn despite Jon’s trepidation. He was an extremely hearty horse, although Jon said he was well on his way to becoming quite pampered as any palfrey given the amount of time Dany and Rose spent brushing him while Dany told stories of the Dothraki to both daughter and mount. 

Secretly, Dany hoped that Rose’s next word would be “horse” or, more specifically, “ _ hrazef _ ” as she never spoke Common Tongue when with Rose and Embar, but it turned out to be “oats” instead. 

“Oats?” Jon asked Dany when he heard Rose use the word for the first time. They barely ate oats. In fact, Dany struggled to remember if she had ever said the word “oats” around her daughter or showed her an oat. Husband and wife agonized to figure out how their daughter had learned the word, especially since she chanted it far more than ever saying “Mama” or “Papa.” 

Only after four paws scampered into the house one night at Dany’s call for meal scraps did the word make sense. 

“Oats!” Rose shouted to her furry shadow. The direwolf’s ear swiveled and was followed by his head turning to look at his young charge.  _ Ah _ , Dany thought amused,  _ close. _

Ghost - or, Oats - was soon followed by “seh” which turned out to be Rose’s sled (that gave Dany a smug look of satisfaction), and since then the words had tapered off (although Dany thought that “no” and “baby” may be in the works since she had been using them often) and been replaced by Rose’s continued exploits into the land of unaided walking.

That is where Dany found herself this evening, watching her daughter hoist herself with the aid of a chair a few feet from her position seated on the floor. Stew cooked over the fire, filling the house with warm, meaty smells. Ghost was asleep on Dany and Jon’s bed, although his red eyes popped open once in a while whenever Rose let out a particularly loud noise in her attempts. Determination was written across her little face, violet eyes sparking with eagerness. 

“Come to Mama,” Dany encouraged, stretching her arms just out of Rose’s reach, “You can do it.”

Rose lifted one small hand off the base of the chair.  _ Good so far _ . Took a wobbly step toward Dany with the hand out to the side and the other one pressing on her support.  _ Yes _ . Lifted the other hand to stand on legs that had leaned out from the chubby baby legs of infancy.  _ Come on, Rosie _ . Tried taking a second step and fell straight backwards onto her rear just as Jon opened the door.

Although it had been happening nearly every time she attempted this, Rose looked thoroughly shocked at her predicament until Jon came to stand over Rose with a mocked look of surprise. “Why are you down there, Rosie?” he asked. 

“Papa!” Rose exclaimed, lifting her arms up to her father for assistance. Chuckling, he stooped down and helped stand his daughter upright, leaving her with the chair for support and walking over to the fire. 

“Dany?” he called as she stretched her arms out again towards Rose.

“Hmm? Come to Mama, Rosie!”

“Will you quit doing this?”

Rose toppled onto her bottom again as Dany looked behind her, where Jon was standing with the glowing dragon egg in one hand and a basket of pelts in the other. Sheepishness crossed her face as he continued. “Every time I add a pelt to this basket for you or try and get a cloth out of the other basket, you’ve made a nest!”

“Sorry,” she grunted as she scrabbled off the ground and hoisted Rose into her arms, “That’s become a habit, hasn’t it?”

“May I ask why?” 

She shrugged. “It started when Tyrion and Sansa first came and I just haven’t stopped. I was feeling...protective, but now it’s just like a normal thing to do. Get up, get Rose up, hide the egg in the basket for the day in case anyone comes over.”

“And not replace the egg at the end of the day?”

“Well… because...you’ve been doing that,” she murmured lamely, looking up a bit heavy-lidded to try and soften the assumption.

Jon rolled his eyes, but simultaneous replaced the egg onto the mantle and came to kiss Dany’s forehead. “I think it’s safe on the mantle, Dany,” he said, “And maybe it’s better we don’t keep moving it around?”

Feeling a bit stupid, she nodded, glancing at the silver and gold scales glinting from the mantle. It had not changed from the current quiet brilliance since the first day she had seen it like that on the mantle, when Tyrion and Sansa had come calling. A dark part of her wondered if the egg could possibly be stagnating, unable to do what its clutchmates had done and go from this stage to hatching. How long did it take? Technically, Drogon’s egg was thousands of years old before he hatched. But Dany didn’t have thousands of years to wait for the egg to hatch. And the Scarlet and Violet hadn’t taken that long. But what more could she do save for killing Jon and walking into his funeral pyre?  _ No blood magic _ , she vowed silently.

Resolutely disinterested in the adornment on her family’s mantle, Rose squirmed from Dany’s arms as Ghost, done with his nap, joined the three. His nose pressed to Dany’s stomach briefly as he came up beside her. 

Besides being called Oats, Ghost was in the midst of a larger identity crisis. His protectiveness over Dany from her first pregnancy had returned, although he had the added pressure of wanting to be near Rose as well. Nighttimes were the worst. Nobody could settle with an enormous direwolf running around, torn between laying across Dany, next to Dany, or at the side of Rose’s bed. At wits’ end, Jon had finally made Ghost stay off their bed and tried to train him into the habit of staying with Rose until Jon and Dany had gone to sleep. 

It generally worked and Ghost often ended up spending the whole night with Rose. Although there were still a few mornings when Dany woke up to a large furry head draped over her stomach and red eyes staring at her.

That night, after enjoying the stew, Jon got Rose ready for bed while Dany made her way out to the barn with a torch for her evening routine with Embar. As he ate under the extended roof Jon had made that connected the barn to a newly fenced small paddock, she brushed out his coat, murmuring to him in quiet Dothraki - the only language that should be used for horses, in Dany’s opinion. It was a cold night like any other, but no wind was around and Dany relished in the Northern version of warmth.

While Dany loved her family, loved being able to be part of it again instead of feeling so ill, it was with Embar that she felt the most calm. There was something quiet about being with her horse that she never felt with Drogon. 

With Drogon, it was always a thrill, that zing in her stomach that was terrifyingly addictive. But with Embar, it was a whispering calm. Her mind would slow down to only focus on the stallion in front of her. She couldn’t worry about the nightmares that stalked her sleep, wonder about what was happening in Winterfell, or even let her thoughts wander. There was just peace.

“Want to do a lap?” she asked the liver horse from his side. He stared back at her in response, chewing carefully, and she took it as an agreement. Grinning, as she always did at the thought of riding, Dany led him out of the paddock and took her usual fist of mane in her left hand and hauled herself up onto the enormous stallion’s back.  _ Remember to put a block or crate in here _ , she told herself as she scrambled to sit properly on Embar’s back, nearly panting from the effort. Any more pregnant and she doubted that mounting from the ground would be possible.

She urged Embar into a paced walk around the clearing and, after a moment, closed her eyes to listen to his movements. The way his legs worked separately and all together at the same time, the way his feet crunched upon the frosty ground, the warmth of his back and the chill of the air, the rocking of his body like the sea. Dany was smiling again as she dropped her arms from a hold on Embar’s mane to stretch them out and enjoy the sensation of floating in the night.

Embar paused suddenly. Opening her eyes, Dany looked to where her horse was staring and saw Jon’s figure emerging from the dark next to the house. “ _ Affa _ ,” she murmured, stroking his great neck, “ _ Affa, nozho _ .” The stallion relaxed as Jon came closer, staring up at Dany with dark eyes. 

“Bit late for a ride,” he said lightly, patting Embar on the shoulder. He let Dany walk Embar into the paddock, closing the gate behind them and leaning over to watch his wife dismount. He never spoke much when he watched Dany on horseback, but she could tell his eyes tracked him. Dany smiled privately over the thought, aware that he had yet to act on anything to take any small revenge for the teasing the night they had met Embar.  

“Too nice of a night not to,” she replied, sliding gently from Embar’s back and landing on the ground. With another pat, she turned and walked over to meet Jon at the gate, standing on the first rung of the fence so that they were the same height, noses nearly touching. 

“How long were you watching?” she asked, pressing her apparent advantage with a voice low. Her right hand reached to interlace fingers with her husband.

Jon ran a thumb over the top of her hand. “I could have watched for longer,” he murmured, nosing past her cheek toward her ear. His lips brushed her ear as he spoke again in a whisper that sent tingles down her spine, “You’re breathtaking.”

Lightly, Jon nibbled on her lobe, causing Dany’s hand to grip his tightly and Jon to chuckle quietly, still continuing. 

“Jon,” Dany managed to stutter against his jaw. 

“Aye?” Jon asked quietly, not moving, but instead kissing below her ear. His right hand had snaked through the topmost space between fence poles to tease her more.

While her mind still worked, Dany took his wandering hand in hers and brought it to open the fence, allowing her to swing out and meet him on the other side with the gate closed behind them. Quickly, she was pressed against the fence, her neck still being voraciously explored. 

“Inside,” she said vixen-like, slipping from between Jon and the fence and tugging on his hand towards the house, “It’s still not too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a time jump summary in this chapter, and the book is nearly finished as I've finally decided at what scene it will end. 
> 
> As the summer wanes, I'll be posting less frequently (gotta go get that piece of paper that says I have a Masters degree), but hopefully on a regular schedule. I have the rest of the story mapped out for now, too. 
> 
> For the person that asked what kind of horse Embar is: he's based off of a very huge Oldenburg dressage horse (same goofy stripe and everything), but with a more carriage-type look.


	42. Fear

Briny wind whipped against her face, cold and uninviting. In front of her stretched a wide expanse of gray sand, made into a path by white cliff and stormy sea. She could hear shouts just out of reach and stumbled in the wind trying to get to the source. 

“Wait!”

The wind blew harder, nearly knocking her over, trying to drown out the shouting. Unable to face forward, Dany looked down at her unsteady bare feet on the gray sand. They were just visible beneath a swollen belly of silver and gold that suddenly dropped like dead weight into her. 

Shrieks, wind and human alike, replaced the shouting and the sand shone red. 

“Stop!”

The belly pulled her down into the sticky, red sand, which parted easily to envelop her, as the wind thundered ever closer. Screaming into the wind, Dany tried to claw her way from drowning in the choking depths. Calloused hands, rough with sand, emerged to grip her neck and silenced her.

“No, please!” Dany screamed, shooting upright with her hands flying to her neck, unbidden by strangers’ hands or the choking depths of bloody sand. She was panting, coated with sweat that made the furs covering her stick like needles upon the sap of pines. Thunderous wind still echoed in her ears as she tried to gain her bearings.

A hand rested gently onto the small of her back, making Dany react with visceral fear as she whipped her head around. Jon was laying awake next to her, worry etched across his face. Soothingly, without speaking, he stroked his hand up and down her lower back, drawing his fingers through the ends of her hair as he went. The feeling was calming, a familiar touch so unlike the nightmarish one that had taken her neck, and Dany tried to focus on it and the other tangible pieces of her home as she took steadying breaths. 

It was dark, the only light coming from the low burning fire. The egg on the mantle was eerily illuminated, its glow almost sinister. Dany looked away. 

She had been asleep perhaps no longer than a couple hours, for she could hear the silence of night outside. Jon was lying next to her, his warm body must have been pressed against her in sleep for she could still feel the faint memories upon her skin of being melded perfectly to her husband. Now, she was cold with sweat. Another breath came through her chest, fractionally calmer than before but still rattled with the ghost of her nightmare. 

Searching out the warmth she had left when she woke, Dany sunk slowly back down into Jon’s embrace, willing him to hold her tightly and keep everything else at bay. He brought their bodies close enough to mold around Dany, protecting the swell of her stomach - flesh instead of scaled silver and gold - as one arm rested at her back and the other smoothed away her hair. 

His gray eyes bore into hers for an answer to the question Dany knew must be burning upon his lips despite his refusal to speak it aloud.

“I don’t want to go back to sleep,” she murmured, voice cracking.

“We don’t have to,” Jon said gently, stroking her hair again. 

“No, you do,” she quickly said, shifting away slightly, “It’s okay. You need rest, you’re…”  _ leaving me when dawn breaks. _ The words died before they became sound. Dany had no interest in sounding petulant, she really didn’t, but Jon’s impending travels were not her favorite thoughts.

It was a new tradition, seeing as Shadowedge was only two years old, but last year many in the villagers went on a hunting expedition at this time, as the great herd of elk passed close to the borders of the Antler on their yearly migration toward the Milkwater. The oldest children went with them, as a kind of rite of passage to see the land beyond Shadowedge and their copse of Haunted Forest. 

Now it was time for the tradition again, and Jon, having missed last year’s with Rose being a newborn, was itching to go. 

“Go!” Dany had encouraged with a false cheeriness when he first brought it up, “There’s no reason for you to miss it. And you can take Embar, it would be good for him as well.” 

The suggestion that Jon part Dany from her newly beloved horse probably gave away her false tone, for he immediately amended his suggestion. “O-or maybe I should stay,” he backpedaled, “It isn’t fair to ask the four of you to mind all the little ones for a week. And with the baby and - ”

“Jon,” Dany had shushed him, “It’s okay. Go. Please.” 

Why had it been so easy to tell him to go? Was it the way his eyes lit up when he spoke about it? Was it the palpable excitement she felt from him when she watched him speak to the others about this hunt with a grin on his face? Or the way he whistled while getting his bow in order and making sure nothing needed to be mended before his journey, every once in a while looking up and smiling at Dany who watched from the other side of the room?

It had been so easy, and yet Dany desperately wanted to take it back. To tell him that she, Willa, Old Dryn, and Dorand could not possibly handle the several small children to be left in their charge (an utter lie). That he couldn’t leave for a week (ridiculously possessive). That she was afraid to be without him, now especially, with her dreams stalked by spectres and her fears unable to be comforted by anyone else. The nightmares felt so real, so horrifyingly real, and Dany could not help but foolishly wonder if they would be. 

Her dreams of dragons, of Drogon in the wastes of the Mammoth’s Head, had been true. And this dream felt even more tangible, like a vision from the House of the Undying rather than something her mind made up at its most vulnerable. What if they were a warning? What if Jon left and never returned?

But she said nothing. She planned to stay with Willa as Embar would be with Jon, she pretended to be excited with him, and she acted as though her restless nights were merely due to her pregnancy. So why should she say something now, on the eve of his travels?

Jon’s hand stroked over her hair again and skated down her back. “You’re shaking again,” he said quietly, pulling her closer, “Dany, my love, what’s tormenting you?”  

At his words, her throat constricted as if the bloody sand had been dumped into her mouth again. For a brief moment, the darkness gave way to memories of the roaring, bloodsoaked beach. She broke, unable to say nothing any longer. “Oh, Jon,” she cried, burying her head into his chest, “Jon, it was so awful.”

“Shh, my love. Shh, you won’t see it anymore. It’s gone.”

Comforting sounds in Jon’s chest as he soothed her were the only sounds Dany heard for a while. She took refuge in the crook of his chest, her trembling lessening as she listened to each strong beat of his heart, memorizing the pattern until she could hear it without her ear pressed against him.  

Once he felt her still, Jon spoke again, although not to ask her about her demons. “Sometimes when you’re sleeping, I braid bits of your hair for practice,” he said to her gently. 

“Is that why it gets so wavy?” she asked, looking up from his embrace. He nodded, nuzzling her face as he did with what Dany could tell was a sheepish smile at the admission. 

A small chuckle passed from her lips, instantly relaxing at their familiar game. They had not needed to play it in so long. “Hmm,” she said, taking her turn, “If I see you frown in your sleep, I kiss you.”

“I love how your skin looks in moonlight.”

“I love that you kiss my stomach before you make love to me.”

“Sometimes I try to surprise you because your eyes are gorgeous when they’re wide.” 

He placed kisses along her jaw as she chose what thought to share next, “In the sunlight, I’ve been trying to catch a glimpse of your burgundy undertones from the wine barrel incident.”

Jon’s kisses stopped. “Did Sansa tell you about that?” 

“What kind of wine was it?”

“I  _ don’t _ have burgundy undertones,” Jon growled, kissing her jaw again.

“Anymore,” she corrected with a laugh.

Against her neck, he gave another thought. “I love hearing your laugh,” he said, nosing her to face him again, “And I hate when you’re afraid.”

“I haven’t woken up alone since we left Dragonstone,” Dany murmured.  _ I still won’t be alone _ , she thought, knowing she would be in Willa’s house,  _ but it’s not the same. It’s not this _ .

“Dany...I don’t  _ have _ to leave.”

“No, Jon, I - it’s not  _ right _ of me to make you stay here because of a nightmare,” she reasoned, “And I really do want you to go. I just...don’t as well.” 

“Is it the same one over and over again?” he pressed, adding, “This may have been the first time you woke up, but...I have before.”

_ Of course _ . Dany took a deep breath, looking away from Jon’s face as he finished the question. Of course he had known. Of course he had said nothing. And what would she have done if he had?  _ Coward _ , she said to herself, knowing the answer. This was her husband. If she had no truth to tell him, what good was the vow that she made?

“Yes,” she said, still looking at a point beyond Jon, “It’s always the same. The same wind. And blood...on the sand.” She shuddered, once again feeling the grainy-and-sticky texture from memory, still hot as though freshly spilled despite the cold air. “And I’m alone. They’re so close, someone is so close, but I’m alone when the sand swallows me.”

She could have said more. She could have told him about the screams. About the wind that drowned out every sound except to be pierced by the bloodcurdling screeches Dany knew to be abject fear. About the egg in her stomach that betrayed her to the sand. And the demonic hands that had reached for the first time to keep her from screaming as she drowned. But the thought of reliving those memories sent ice dripping down her spine and tightened her chest as if she had been immersed in the frozen waters of the Antler.

Needing to feel something safe, true, and warm she touched Jon’s cheek, finger pads brushing gently over the scruff of his beard. “Is it foolish to be haunted by it?” she asked, “To be scared of my own mind?”

“No, Dany,” Jon answered softly, “But I wish you had told me this was happening.”

Dany shrugged. “I don’t want to believe that it is,” she told him, still stroking over his cheek.

For a moment, Jon simply searched her face, tracing over it with his eyes before resting on the violet eyes staring back at him. “If you don’t want me to stay, what do you want me to do?” 

“Just hold me,” Dany said quietly, “Just be here now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the gap in updates. Alas, sometimes life gets in the way of writing.
> 
> The next chapter will probably be the last in this Book, but I don't believe there will be much of a hiatus, if any before the next Book. 
> 
> Also, just because I don't think it'll ever be revealed in the story, I realized that the onset of Dany's more...vivid...dreams and nightmares should be explained. I believe that she has these at times when she's her most vulnerable: pregnant, with a newborn, near death, particularly fearful etc. They're vivid to varying degrees of truthfulness. Her dreams of Drogon were like a straightforward vision, while her dream of Missandei was very ambiguous. So the nightmares she's having in this chapter come from a similar place.


	43. The Beach

“The air smells like snow,” Willa declared, reentering her house with a fresh bundle of firewood in her arms. Her hair was windswept from the buffeting she took fetching the wood a little ways away and she looked surprisingly cold for someone who had spent her whole life in frozen conditions.

Dany observed this as she looked up from feeding Rose her breakfast. “Flurry or blizzard?” she asked blandly, though her stomach lurched. If the weather held and everything had gone well on the hunters’ end, Jon and the rest of the Shadowedge hunting party would be returning tomorrow. 

In the end, despite herself and despite his initial protests, Dany had convinced her husband to go on the trip. It was a week. They couldn’t plan to live for the rest of their lives without being able to be apart for a week. _And anyways,_ Dany had told herself, _Jon is going inland. He’ll be safe._

Therefore, for the past week, Dany and Rose had been staying with Willa in Shadowedge. Willa was also hosting Myl and Thistle, a young girl of seven: two of the children whose families had gone away on the hunt with Jon and so many others. In fact, there were only four adults and ten children left in Shadowedge. Some had gone away trading in neighboring villages, but most had gone in pursuit of the elk herd with Jon and Tormund.

Besides Dany and Willa, only Old Dryn and Dorand were left. Old Dryn because, in his words, “These old bones can’t keep up with your lot’s runnin’ an’ hollerin’ no more.” And Dorand, who had volunteered as a bit of added protection and an extra set of eyes on the ten scurrying rascals whose parents had left them behind. His own children, Enda and Nerell, were out there in the Haunted Forest under Tormund’s charge.  

“Middle ground. Whatever’s left of what was over the sea yesterday and something else coming from the Frostfangs,” Willa replied, glancing around the home, “Where are the two terrors that call themselves children?” 

“They ran off to round up the others - I heard something about plans to ask us to go to the beach?” Myl hadn’t mastered the art of whispering yet, nor had he figured out that Rose didn’t understand what his not-so-whispered plans meant, so Dany had heard the whole story from him before the little redhead dashed off with Thistle in tow: Going to the beach to see what the bad weather and waves washed up on the shore overnight. 

After bad weather, one could find some very interesting treasures washed ashore. Shells, coins, bits of material like whalebone or parts of wrecked ships, even the occasional weapon. The blade Dorand wielded if needed was one he had found on the shores of the Shivering Sea many years ago. 

Willa shook her head, sighing. “Do they have any idea how windy and foggy it will be there?” she asked exasperatedly, turning to add another log to the fire, “And _we_ have to go down there too!”

“Is this coming from the person who was saying just yesterday that she wished she could have found new beads or shells for her hair before a certain man of hers returned?” Dany asked with a dreamy tone and a smirk as she fed Rose the last of her meal. 

“By _trading_ , Dany, not hunting on a frozen beach with ten rowdy children! I can’t focus.”

“Because you need to focus so you can pick just the right ones,” Dany teased, eyes gleaming with mirth, “Tormund just _loves_ when you have new adornments in your hair.”

Willa turned around, blushing. “Next time Jon goes away and you don’t want to stay in your own home, you can stay with Old Dryn,” she said, narrowing her golden eyes.

“Sorry,” Dany replied, though she was still smiling. She had been teasing Willa relentlessly ever since she heard her friend speak Tormund’s name in her sleep on Dany’s second night in Willa’s house. 

Ignoring Dany, Willa stoked the fire once more before straightening up. Her eyes darted to the basket on her right, from where an unfamiliar glow was emanating from beneath a cloth. “Does it ever do anything else?” Willa asked.

Dany looked up and saw what the healer was referring to. “No,” she said, “Not since it started doing that. It used to just glow weakly and occasionally. Now it glows all the time.”

“Does that means it’s...you know...going to hatch soon?”

Shaking her head, Dany came over to Willa and the egg with Rose on her hip. “I wish I knew,” she said, reaching her free hand down to uncover the egg and place her hand upon it. The scaly surface felt the way someone’s mouth would feel after chewing on mint leaves and sucking in cold air. “I’m worried it will stay this way forever.”

“Some people would say that’s easier,” Willa remarked.

Before Dany could respond more than looking at Willa with pursed lips, a tiny fist hammered the door and Myl’s voice rang out. “DANY! WILLA! WE GOT A QUESTION!”

“Let me guess,” Willa said, rolling her eyes and walking over to the door, “Something about a beach.”

~

Despite Willa’s protests from before, soon Dany, Willa, and Dorand were walking along towards the cliffside beaches with ten rambunctious children leading the way, shouting about who would find the coolest treasure.

While Willa, who had taken Rose from Dany to allow Dany to walk more freely than she would carrying two children around, went on ahead to try and keep up with the kids, Dany and Dorand fell into step in the back. The tall man’s eyes had a detectable note of wist in them as he watched their excited charges. 

“Do you miss them being that small?” Dany asked.

Dorand nodded. “Aye, sometimes. I miss being able to put them on my shoulders, make them feel like they’re flying. But watching them grow up is something I wouldn’t trade away. I’m looking forward to hearing about their hunt,” he looked down at Dany and smiled, “You’ll see soon. One day your children will be out hunting for elk instead of being carried to the beach. And then you’ll watch all the little ones and wonder how time could pass so quickly. But it’ll be worth it.”

Smiling at the thought, Dany placed a hand over her stomach. She could just picture it now: her two children keeping up with Jon, little bows in their hands as he taught them how to track the elk herd and listen for their movements. Perhaps she would be with them. _Leading Embar around with all the supplies_ , she thought wryly. Perhaps Dorand would be there too, hunting with his grown children. Maybe even Willa and Tormund.

The fog was so thick on the cliffside that it was impossible to see the beach below them. Eagerly, the children raced to the winding path to descend, oblivious to how the fog affected visibility. “Careful, now!” Willa called out to them, “If one of you falls off the path because you rushed, you’ll get no sympathy.” They slowed down near-imperceptibly and soon disappeared into the thick clouds that touched the earth. Dany watched as Willa followed with Rose, picking her way slowly down the steep path that led down from the cliffs to the shore.

“Can I help you get down?” Dorand asked, offering Dany his hand, “Astrid always said she felt safer walking down here pregnant when she had someone’s hand.” 

“Thanks,” Dany said, taking it as they began down the worn path of white and gray weathered stone, “Did you live here before the war?”

Dorand nodded, glancing around from the sheer side of the cliff to fog-covered area beneath them that hid open shores of the Shivering Sea. “Aye,” he said, “Up and down these parts, we liked to move around. Stayed out of other folks’ ways and minded our own business ‘til we couldn’t stay any longer. Always promised we’d come back here once it was safe…”

He trailed off, looking around again though there was nothing to see. The fog had become so thick as they went lower that Dany could have held out her hand and watched it disappear. It was beginning to seem pointless to look for anything washing up on the shore - they’d sooner walk into the sea unexpectedly than actually find something in this weather.

“That’s why you came to Shadowedge?” she asked.

“Had to make good on the promise,” Dorand said, “And Enda and Nerell got used to being around other people. Didn’t make sense to go back to wandering when they were happy in a village. It’s what Astrid would’ve wanted. But having them go out on hunts and see more of the world is good too. They like the balance, for the most part. One day I’ll take them out to see more of the world - beyond the tree tops to where the sun sets. I’ve never seen the sun set on the sea before, only rise.”

“You know they call it the Sunset Sea,” Dany told him. 

“Aye? Well then, must be the perfect place to go.”

They rounded a sharp corner of the path, Dorand still helping Dany along. Ahead, they could hear the excited shouts of the children through the fog. It seemed as though they were close to the bottom. The path had become more gravelly and loose, and Dany gripped Dorand’s hand harder as her feet slid on the rock. 

“Hmph,” Dorand grunted, steadying her for the second time, “Must be loose rock up the cliff. Wouldn’t know with all this fog though. Boulder could fall on us and we’d have no idea it was coming.”

Luckily, the potential falling boulders seemed to stay put and, with the last rounding of a corner, Dorand and Dany stepped onto the grayish sand. Dany loved staring at the whorl patterns of black in the sand, as if it had traveled from entirely different shores to end up here. Today, however, the patterns were obscured by the thick fog which had gotten worse, layers upon layers of it making the beach like a daunting maze to navigate. 

She could hear the sounds of waves and shouting children, but see none of the action. Willa had disappeared as well, hidden by the clouds. It made Dany feel oddly uneasy, her friend and baby out of sight. The wind had gotten fiercer, it seemed to only blow in more fog instead of less. Cold air settled into Dany’s bones, its damp chill making her feel as though she had been plunged into a constricting river. She shivered, but it only made the cold sink deeper. 

The wind howled louder, ringing in her ears and Dany only just made out her name being called over it and a small shadow racing through the fog. 

“DANY!” Myl cried, heard before he appeared. Expecting to have to scold him for something, Dany looked down with mock-suspicion, but her face turned to horror. She felt Dorand stiffen next to her. 

Myl’s small face was bloody, a crude gash along his cheek that was already purpling around the edges. His eyes were medallion-round in terror as he ran up to Dany, careening into her.

“There’s scary men! The color men! They grabbed Thistle! And I got away! And Willa said to get you! And - ” 

Dany froze. _Rose_. 

“ _What men?_ ” Dorand shouted, drawing a dagger from his person, “ _Where?_ ”

Myl wasn’t able to say more, now gasping and still holding onto Dany’s clothes, but Dorand didn’t wait for an answer. “Stay behind me!” he commanded, seeming to grow more than his already staggering height. 

Torn, Dany briefly struggled between staying still with Myl and not moving from the spot or following Dorand and staying together. A scream pierced through the fog, cutting across the roaring wind. _Follow Dorand_ , Dany decided, _find Rose._

From her boot, Dany drew the small dagger she kept on her person at all times. With her free hand, she grabbed Myl’s hand tightly. “ _Don’t_ let go,” Dany told him grimly, looking around at his pale, bloodied face. Whimpering and shaking, he nodded, gripping as tightly as his little hand could close around Dany’s.

They plunged into the fog, Dorand’s shadow ahead of them, as the sounds of screaming and wind grew louder. Dany felt her heart alternating between racing and plummeting, her mind racing with thousands and thousands of questions.

_They’re here. Who? Why was Myl bloody? What about Rose? Willa? Why did I ever let them out of my sight?_ The nausea that had been ebbing away for so many days was suddenly back. Despite the frigid cold and wind, Dany felt clammy and dizzy. As much as Myl was shaking, Dany felt the same inwardly. 

The fog was choking. Dany kept a tight grip on Myl, but she had lost Dorand ahead. Blood roared in her ears as they battled against the wind whipping sand and ice into their faces. For the first time above the wind, Dany could distinguish the foreign shouts of men that had an all-too familiar lilt that made Dany’s blood freeze and Willa’s voice as well. They were close.

“Just take me, please!” Willa begged, “Just let them go!”

Unable to stop herself, Dany called out, “Willa!” still walking towards the desperate sound of her friend’s voice, where she knew Rose was also. 

“Dany, no!”

Dany could hear more foreign words spoken and the unmistakable sound of a hand across a face. She gripped her dagger tighter and thrust Myl behind her by his arm. Through the next layer of fog, she found Willa, kneeling on the sand, face more badly wounded than Myl’s - her mouth was bleeding profusely. She was flanked by four men with brightly-colored hair and beards, savage looking and brandishing weapons and rope. One had his hand raised to strike her again. Behind them were all nine children huddled back by another Tyroshi. Their faces were petrified, and many of them were sniffling, unable to cry out of fear. Dany saw, with a wrench that should have torn her heart from her body, Thistle holding a sobbing Rose in the middle of the children, all bound to each other like animals. 

“ _Keli _māt_! _ ” Dany shouted as she and Myl came out of the fog, “ _Keli _māt__ _!_ ”

At the sound of Valyrian, the slavers turned towards Dany. Confusion crossed their faces for only a moment before two began to advance toward her, realizing that even if she could speak their tongue, she was woefully outnumbered. Pressing Myl further behind her, Dany threateningly pointed her dagger at the men. “ __Keli _māt__! _”

“ _Tubī daor_ ,” one of them replied malevolently, snapping out a length of rope as he came closer. 

Before he could make it to Dany, a figure leapt from the shadows of the fog with a mighty shout. Towering Dorand, armed with his dagger, got between Dany and then men, immediately ripping his blade across the face of the nearest Tyroshi. Hot blood sprayed the gray sand and the man crumpled, dropping his rope and grasping at his mortal wound in agony.

For an instant, Dany’s heart leapt with relief. _Dorand had come_. She saw Willa taking advantage of the sudden diversion and elbowing one of the slavers in the back of the knee, sending him sprawling to the ground. She saw the Tyroshi holding the children captive rush forward to try and defend against the sudden ambush. She started to move Myl around the ensuing fight, to get him to safety and help Willa.

And then, from the corner of her eye, she saw the raised falchion glint off the weak light barely peering through the thick clouds. She saw it reach its arc and, sickeningly, she knew what came next. 

The world stopped.

Though the wind raged on, though the sounds of fighting still existed, Dany could hear this whisk of the blade as it was brought down onto its target. Blood peppered her face. Flesh and bone cracked. And Dorand fell.

A lone tree beaten by the storm. 

It was a thunderous fall as the stalwart man fell into the sand, the gray around him staining red. Dany’s veins turned to ice, her breath left her, her ears filled with the growing thunder of wind and the echoed sound of Dorand’s body upon the sand. The world had lost all warmth, the gray hues of fog and sand turned blue as if Dorand’s death had taken any chance of life with it.

“Dany!” Myl shouted, bringing her back to the present. 

The Tyroshi with the bloody falchion now came towards her with a companion. Somehow, she blocked the first blow from him, only to feel a sting across her face from the other one, stunning her and knocking her off balance. Lights popped before her eyes. Dany tasted blood in her mouth and felt the bitten wound in her cheek swell immediately. 

Suddenly she was on the ground, unable to breathe and with so much pain in her stomach. 

“Dany!” Myl cried next to her, trying to no avail to haul her up as the two slavers closed in. Blinking the sudden tears of pain from her eyes, Dany tried to regain her senses, tried to get up for Myl. For Rose. For Willa. For her baby. For Jon. To see him again and not die on this beach. The edges of her vision were fuzzy and dark. Like the slavers, the blackness closed in as she saw them looking down onto her and Myl, the falchion pointed at her neck. 

Overhead, the wind roared louder than before. It seemed to freeze everything in its way, inviting Dany to just let go. It would be warmer if she closed her eyes.

_No, can’t_.

“ __Keli _māt__  _,” she groaned, spitting blood from her mouth to mix with the reddened sand. Her arms shook as she tried to raise herself up. Her entire body was aching, on fire, and frozen all at once. The blood pounded in her ears like the thunderous wings of her past, making her dizzier than before. Then it was the wind that sounded like wings. 

The beach had gotten darker and she heard it. The word she had not heard in so long. 

“ _Zaldrīzes_ ,” said the slaver, panicked, looking away from Dany and up behind them. 

_Drogon?_

She heard the children screaming. She heard the Tyroshi shouting, suddenly running. And then the word changed.

“ _Zaldrīzoti!_ ”

The thundering wind came closer, buffeting Dany from overhead, expelling the fog and stirring up the sand. Looking up at the spinning world, the darkness taking hold of her, she saw the flash of silvery-white and its black shadow. A terrible roar pierced the wind, shaking the beach and causing even more panic. 

“Drogon!” Dany screamed to the roar, fisting the sand as a more crushing wave of pain took over and her body seemed to split in two, dragged to the black oblivion that could lay beneath the sand, “Help us.”

As Dany sagged into the ground, giving way to the darkness overtaking her, she felt the lick of frost and flame against her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Book 2.
> 
> This chapter was arduous to write. Usually it takes a day to write a chapter and another to revise, I've been writing this for a week. I've actually never written this level of physical action before so this is new territory. 
> 
> We've met Dorand a few times, but this is the first time Dany really made a connection with him, hears a bit of his story, and then he's gone. He was a character that stuck in my mind since we first met him in Book 1.
> 
> Also, dragons revealed! Book 3 coming promptly.
> 
> "Kelimāt" means "Stop!"   
> "Tubī daor" means "Not today."   
> And then "Zaldrīzes" is "dragon" and "Zaldrīzoti" is the plural form


	44. The Aftermath

**Book 3: Light**

_ “There is no shame in fear, my father told me, what matters is how we face it _ .”

_ If this is death, it isn’t too awful _ . 

~

_ If I can think, is this death? _

_ ~ _

Dany could not remember why she expected to be dead, but was fairly certain that she wasn’t. She was definitely laying on something, at that perfect temperature and feeling right as sleep begins to give way to being awake. 

Had she been asleep? She wasn’t sure. It was definitely the inside of her eyelids that she could now see. And her senses felt as though they were beginning to wake up from a long, heavy slumber. A pleasant buzz filled her ears, she knew there was light beyond her eyelids, and she could just feel the soft surface on which she was laying. It seemed to cocoon around her protectively.

Although she knew she was comfortable, at the recognition of feelings and surroundings, her body began to feel exhausted. For the first time, Dany also felt pain. 

Her head throbbed, and there was an ache seemingly everywhere. It took a very long time for her mind to tell her fingers to try moving, and even raising one seemed like a gargantuan task, as if the weight of all the Iron Bank’s coin was being held by her one finger. The idea of moving any more or opening her eyes was impossible. She couldn’t possibly do any more than lay here forever. Wherever “here” was. Where was she?

From somewhere inside her, she felt the tiniest flutter separate from the pain and the sleepiness. It was soothing and familiar, encouraging even, and reminded her of butterfly wings.  _ Missandei? _

Maybe this was death. Maybe when she finally was able to open her eyes she would be back on the white beach with her friend by her side, ready to lead her...wherever they went. 

On. 

_ No, I don’t think I want to go yet _ , she thought, feeling her mind more firmly awake than before. Unfortunately, this meant her body hurt more as well, but it confirmed that she was not moving on. Dany was very much alive. She tested her fingers again, able to move her entire hand a little easier this time. Another hand grasped hers as she moved. It was warm and calloused, but not unfriendly. She knew it. Not the cool, slender hands of her closest friend come to guide her away, but the hands that knew her better than anyone in the world. Definitely attached to the person who could say the same.

Dany’s eyes fluttered open at the realization of who was with her. At first, her vision was blurry in the daylight. She could see the shapes of the room etched out in bleeding lines around her. Closest of all was a weathered shape with black hair. The shape that held her hand.

“Jon?” she whispered. Her voice rasped as if it had not been used in an eon. As she spoke this word, Dany felt her chapped lips stretch and crack, and how dry and sore her mouth was. Stretching the muscles in her mouth for that one word was uncomfortable in a way Dany equated with standing after sitting cross-legged on the floor with Rose for a long time.

_ Rose _ .

_ Rose. Willa. The beach, the slavers, the children, the dragons, Dorand _ …. 

Suddenly, her heart was racing. The calm she had felt with first conscious thought had evaporated, and Dany would have bolted from laying in bed if Jon had not braced her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Easy, Dany,  _ easy _ ,” Jon said in a low voice, “Just rest.” His hand left her shoulder and smoothed back her hair gently. Dany was able to see his face more clearly now. Dark circles cradled his eyes, and the shadow of a frown stalked his face. Despite how calm he sounded, Jon looked as worn out as Dany felt. But how? He was gone, how was he here? And where was here? And where was her daughter? Willa? The children? The dragons? Her baby?

“Th - the - the,” Dany stammered. Words did not seem to come to her tongue, but her mind raced on, demanding the answers to every question it had. Her headache was getting much worse.

Jon smoothed back her hair again. “It’s okay, Dany. I’ll answer every question you have, my love, just breathe first,” he told her.

Swallowing dryly, like she had shoved wool into her mouth and forced it down, Dany took a deep breath. Unable to pick a specific question to ask first, Dany settled on a basic one: “What happened?”

Obviously she knew what happened. She remembered. But then...what happened?

“What do you remember last?” Jon prompted. 

It only took a second to recall the pain, the screaming, and the word called out.  _ Zaldrīzoti _ . 

“I thought - I thought we were going to die on that beach,” Dany said, unable to put the chaotic memories into words, “And that - Jon, what about the children?”

“They’re okay,” Jon said, “All of them. Rose, and all of them. Shaken. Badly. But they’re okay.”

“And...and our baby?”

“Is okay too,” he reassured her, moving his hand from her head to her stomach, which still swelled with hinted life, “You’re quite bruised, but you’ll both be okay. Willa tells me that about seven times a day right now.”

“Willa’s been here?”

“She’s mending like everyone else. We were just waiting on you, Dany.”

Dany furrowed her brow. “How - how long have I been out?”

“In and out for nearly a week,” Jon replied, worry crossing over his face again, “You’ve been stirring a lot since yesterday. Willa said your head took the worst of it so we just needed to wait it out.” 

“A week?”

“Dany, you’re panicking again. Just rest, I’ll explain everything I know.”

Jon launched into his story of the events that had taken place over the last week, while Dany listened with rapt attention. In the back of her mind, a mantra beat over and over with Jon’s words.  _ They’re okay. They’re okay. They’re okay _ . Her daughter, her baby, her friend, the village children, they were all okay. 

_ Except for Dorand _ , a voice reminded her.

Also sensing the impending snow that Willa had smelled in the beginning of the day, the hunting expedition had decided to return to Shadowedge a day early. They returned to a frozen village, misty and blue, with several sets of footprints leading towards the cliffs and Old Dryn asleep in his house, not quite sure where everyone had gone.

Immediately concerned, a party of several hunters headed to the cliffs to search for those missing. On Embar, Jon rode ahead, covering ground much more quickly with the stallion’s massive stride. Just before the edge of the cliffs, Jon came across a tiny figure hurtling towards him: a streaking flash of red hair against the icy landscape. 

Without hesitation, Myl had shouted at him, “The beach! Need help!”

“Go tell the others!” Jon ordered the young boy, with the bruised and bloody face, “Go now!”

As Myl took off again, pushing his little legs past what any five year-old should have to do, Jon urged Embar onwards. He would have galloped down the cliff path had it not been slick with ice and treacherous even when dry. Nearly leaping off the lowest edge, he followed the footprints through the thick, frozen mist until he came across the first body. 

“No,” Jon had choked as he saw the silver hair and small frame splayed in the gray sand streaked with red. Wight-like, he dismounted from Embar and left the horse, stumbling to his wife’s body and collapsing on his knees beside her. 

Her hand still clenched sand and he could see the faint trickle of blood from her mouth. As he palmed the ice-colored hair, cradling Dany’s head, others made themselves known for the first time. 

“She’s breathing, she’s still alive,” Willa panted from Dany’s other side. She was slumped on the ground, leaning on a protruding black rock from the sand, her face swollen with welts and gashes and her left arm was sitting unnaturally. Around her, nine children with round eyes in various states of fear were standing and sitting. Most of them sported mild injuries that reminded Jon of what Myl looked like. A couple of the ones sitting had limbs sticking out at odd angles like Willa’s arm. All of them had shiny faces with frozen tears. Some looked at Willa, some at Jon, and a few just looked anywhere except to their left, where the sand was a dark red and two men lay broken and further on, Jon could see three more badly disfigured. With a wrench, Jon recognized Dorand; his eyes were drawn to the man who he had always thought of as a pillar of strength among the free folk and he did not dwell on what had caused the other strange mens’ mortal injuries.

“We need,” Willa labored, breaking Jon from his gaze, “To get Dany - back to Shadowedge. Before - they freeze. I tried, I can’t move her.”

“I can carry her,” Jon said immediately, “And more people are on the way to help. We saw your footprints. Can you walk?”

Willa nodded, grimacing and seeming to regret moving her head that much. “Devyn and Rowan can’t, though,” she said, “Nor can Rose.”

“They’ll ride Embar,” Jon told her, painstakingly resting Dany’s head back down for a moment and whistling to the horse. 

Proud as ever, Embar trotted over and stopped in front of Dany. With a sad nicker, he sniffed her, pressing his velvety white nose into her side. Dany did not stir, but moaned quietly, in a pained tone that caused anguish to flood through Jon. 

Taking a breath to steady himself, Jon came over to the children. He picked up Devyn first and carried him over to Embar, lifting the boy onto the horse’s broad back. Devyn winced as his ankle knocked into Embar’s side, but scrunched up his face and did not whimper. The young boy seemed to fractionally relax once he settled onto the horse. 

Next, Jon placed Rowan behind Devyn and instructed her to hold around Devyn’s waist. Then came Rose. 

“Let me ride with her,” little Thistle piped up immediately, “I’ve been holding her the whole time.”

Smiling slightly in acknowledgement, Jon nodded and picked up Thistle, placing her in front of Devyn. The young girl made sure not to touch Devyn’s ankle as she got situated right behind Embar’s withers. Finally, Jon picked up his daughter. Rose looked absolutely petrified, and fussed against Jon, reaching every way to break free from his arms. 

Thistle stretched out her hands and helped take Rose onto Embar, holding her snugly onto the stallion’s back. Jon wrenched his thoughts away from his fussing daughter and back to the present situation. Certain that everyone was secure on Embar, he came over to Willa and helped the healer stand up. Willa sucked in a hissing breath as she stood and jostled her arm, swearing horribly.

When she had finished, Jon turned to the other children. “All of you stay very close to Willa,” he said, “You have to make sure we all get up this cliff so we can go home.”

“What about Dorand?” one of them asked in a quavering voice. 

Briefly, Jon let his eyes wander to the body a few feet away. “He’ll come home too,” he promised, “But first we need to get you back.”

Gently, Jon knelt to lift Dany into his arms. His wife was freezing and so still he would have thought Willa was lying if he had not felt the low, far apart breaths for himself. Holding her close to his chest, he began to lead everyone along the cliff back to the path they came from. Embar walked carefully behind, much more fluid than he usually was when he was not engaged by a rider. Jon guessed, after having spent a week with the horse, that he was intelligent enough to be careful not to jostle anyone too badly with his loping gait.

Suddenly, overhead, Jon heard the thunder of what he thought was an enormous gust of wind. It was rhythmic and loud, and the walking children began to whine. He turned to see them looking up apprehensively, cowering close to Willa. 

As Jon followed their gaze, he heard Willa reassure them. “It’s all right,” she said bravely, “They saved us, remember?”

The beat of the wind came closer, and Jon saw the black and white figures of creatures he had not seen since the frozen wastes of the Mammoth’s Head.

~

“We brought all of you back to Shadowedge and Willa organized the healing and mending for everyone. Once we knew you were going to be okay and you could be moved from her house, I brought you home,” Jon said, “Although Rose is still with Willa and Tormund. She’s seen you every day but she doesn’t understand why you didn’t respond when she called for you - you were awake a few times but I don’t think you knew you were - so we thought it was best she stayed distracted.”

Dany nodded slowly, still processing everything Jon had said. They were okay. They made it out alive. She was the last one to wake up of those who had that luxury. Once again, her stomach twisted as she remembered Dorand. 

“What happened...to Dorand?” she asked grimly. 

Briefly, Jon glanced around their house before answering. “We...brought him back. Burned the other bodies on the shore, but we gave Dorand the proper burial just as soon as everyone was well enough to be there.”

“He saved my life,” Dany murmured, “Saved all of us.”

Jon nodded. “Willa told me what happened. He was a good man. And I’ll forever be in his debt.”

“And Enda and Nerell?” 

“With Willa for now,” Jon said, “They’re still in shock and she’s...good with that sort of stuff. They come with Rose each day.”

“When can I see her? And them? And Willa?” Dany asked in rapid succession. 

Peeking out the window, Jon replied, “Mm...probably in a few hours. It’s just before midday. It’s good that you’re awake - there are some things we need to discuss with some of the other village leaders and I wanted to hold off until you were awake.”

“What other things?” Dany asked, “Is it the slavers? The dragons? Are Drogon and Saphira still here or did they leave? What about - ”

“Patience, Dany,” Jon said, holding up his hands, “We’ll talk about everything else once Willa and Tormund get here with the kids. Why don’t I get you something to eat?”

Taking a breath to calm herself once more, Dany nodded and Jon smiled. He leaned down and kissed her forehead before heading over to the fire where, for the first time, Dany noticed the glowing egg resting in its normal place on the mantle. It looked unchanged from a week ago, spared from the trauma that everyone else had experienced. But, to Dany, it felt as if this was the only thing that hadn’t changed. The world was suddenly a lot smaller, even though less lives were in it. And as much as she wanted to hold her daughter again and see her friends, Dany could not help but worrying that it would never feel the same as before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand, we're back! Crazy response to the last chapter - you guys are the best and I'm still so ecstatic every time I have the pleasure of reading your thoughts and ideas! Hopefully this final book will pull a lot of loose ends and Chekhov's guns together for all of you.
> 
> A little update: I'll most likely be slowing down the amount of posts a week to two or three. But! I've really fallen in love with this story and, now with a clear ending to it in mind, I'm considering doing a sequel to it. I have a basic plot in mind that needs a lot of fleshing out, but, in the meantime..any thoughts?


	45. New Neighbors

“She doesn’t look very awake to me, Jon,” said a suspicious voice quite close to Dany’s face.

Dany’s eyes fluttered open and she was greeted by the blurry, narrow-eyed look of Willa staring overtop of her much too close a distance for waking up. “Ah, never mind.”

Scrunching her eyes to try and clear the film of sleep away, when Dany reopened them she saw Willa at a more comfortable distance from her face, as well as a few new additions to the household. Enda and Nerell hovered near the door, both peering over curiously at Dany. Tormund had already made himself at home and was tucking into some of the leftover porridge Jon had made for Dany earlier. And Rose. Rose in her father’s arms. Rose safe. Rose back home. 

Before even speaking, Dany reached her arms out sleepily for her daughter. Rose understood immediately, squirming in Jon’s arms to reach Dany. Seeing the exchange, Willa wordlessly helped Dany to slowly sit up so that Dany could take Rose as Jon passed her over, sitting her next to Dany’s side on the bed to make sure she didn’t hurt the baby or Dany’s bruised stomach.

“ _Rytsas issa tala_ ,” Dany murmured, “ _Issa_ Rosie.” She wound a slender finger through Rose’s delicate brown curls that now hung to her shoulder. 

“Mama,” Rose said, placing a tiny hand on Dany’s cheek.

“Mama’s here,” Dany told her, “Mama’s right here.”

For a moment, mother and daughter sat simply enjoying being with each other. Rose mimicked Dany, reaching to pat her mother’s hair and grinning when Dany smiled at her. Effectively breaking the moment, Willa asked Dany, “Should we all pat your face now that you’re awake?”

~

Although it was not the most pleasant feeling for Dany to sit in a chair, she felt strange in the bed with everyone in her house and had shakily been helped to the table where Tormund, Willa, and Jon had all taken up seats.

It had taken some coaxing, but Nerell and Enda were now situated on the floor, Rose toddling between them. _Another missed moment_ , Dany thought sadly as she watched her daughter take steps that weren’t her first. Rose had, indeed, walked in the house for the first time. But it had been Jon and Willa to witness it, Dany unconscious like she had been when Rose said “Mama.” Still, her chest swelled with pride each time she watched Rose make it from Nerell to Enda or back, having to walk further each time. 

“How have they been?” Dany asked quietly, watching Enda stretch out her arms for Rose. The blonde girl’s smile seemed more like a motion than a genuine feeling, as if she knew that what was Rose wanted, but could not relate. 

Willa shrugged. “Sad,” she said, her voice taking on a drained quality, “Quiet. They’ll answer questions, but they haven’t been talking much. Even to the other kids. You can tell they’re listening when people speak, but I maybe hear five words a day from each of them. We’ve been trying very hard to keep them from being isolated. It’s hard, you know? I can heal...but not something this deep.”

“We need to figure out who will take them in soon,” Tormund added, “Willa’s house is...just too crowded for it to be permanent, but it’s hard. They seem to feel so alone in the world, and we can’t give them what they need.”

Jaw set, Willa nodded, looking exceedingly frustrated. Dany knew she must not want to agree, but Tormund was right and was saying it nicely. Having two children would mean major changes to Willa’s lifestyle and home, and Dany knew that her friend couldn’t do that even with Tormund’s help.

 _Alone in the world_. Dany’s heart sunk at Tormund’s words. Enda and Nerell were so young. Sure they were old enough to hunt elk, but they weren’t old enough to set off on their own. It reminded her of Sansa, cut off from her childhood by bloodlust and cruelty. And of her own childhood, losing her parents and guardians even younger than Nerell and hopping from Free City to Free City, taken in by the wealthy for amusement and then sent away when the “Targaryenness” lost its charm. Never a permanent place to grow up. Never a home or a true family. Just the few memories of sunlit, happier times that smelled of spices and always had a red door welcoming her. She was never certain those memories were real.

Home was never real or tangible. Until she met Jon.

Her husband returned her gaze with a curious expression, seeming on the verge of speech and even beginning to open his mouth, but Willa spoke instead. “That can be decided when we’re with the rest of the clan and they’ll stay with us until then. First we need to figure out whether or not this was a one-time invasion.”

“Have any other ships been spotted?” Dany asked, blood running cold. Willa spoke as if more had happened.

Tormund shook his head. “No, but we know one of the people who attacked you got away. Willa said there were five men and we only found four bodies and not boat that they came on. We did see the ship the slavers came from and kept watch until it started heading south.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re leaving for good,” Dany said, “Not if they know there are dragons still in the North.” 

“I hardly think they’ll be back very quickly after their men got scorched and frozen at the same time,” Willa scoffed. Agreeably, Tormund nodded with what Willa said and even Jon, who looked at dragons differently than anyone else she knew, appeared appeased at the idea that having a dragon defense meant the slavers would go elsewhere. _Why does everyone think that a dragon is the key to success?_ When Dany thought of dragons, she thought of Viserion and Rhaegal. Of Drogon in the fighting pits of Mereen. _Nothing is infallible_. 

Dany shook her head. None of them understood that. Even if the slavers were going elsewhere, they still came here initially. They still would have gone kidnap and murder, most likely at another village along the coast - Shadowedge wasn’t the only one - and then they would be back. Others would come too. _All the same as Kraznys,_ she thought bitterly, _all thinking they could be infallible_. 

“They’ll be back,” she said firmly, “ _Because_ of the dragons.”

“What do you mean? Not that we’ve had much of a choice at the start, but my first instinct would have been to stay as far away from any whiff of dragon as possible.”

Though her interest was piqued by Willa’s last words, Dany pushed herself to answer the initial question. To make all of them understand. “Dragons are different in Essos,” Dany started, “In Westeros, all they’ve ever been viewed as is someone else’s weapon. Something to be feared, even if it’s protecting you. Just like you said. Westerosi hold survival and self-preservation in high regard, which usually means looking down upon anything foreign or strange.

“But in Essos...in Essos dragons can be _your_ weapon,” Dany said, looking to Jon, who had heard how Dany got the Unsullied and of her dragons’ kidnapping in Qarth. “Legends in Westeros are all about slaying wild dragons, surviving against them until Aemon Targaryen conquered the Seven Kingdoms. But dragons _came_ from Essos - whether you believe it to be the Fourteen Flames, Asshai, the moon over Qarth - and the legends are about how the Valyrians tamed the dragons. If they could, why can’t others? Any Essosi could have Valyrian blood from the old empire. So if a single woman sold to the savage Dothraki could have three at her command, why couldn’t others? 

“They’ve seen the success of dragons - even if it wasn’t to their benefit, even if that success came with a horrifying price - where the Westerosi have only ever seen the destruction. The downfall of letting in the new. Essosi _want_ that success. That’s why they’ll be back, whether that’s here or where Drogon and Saphira are now. What are the few slaves that would survive the journey back to Essos compared with dragons?”

Dany could tell that her words had struck a chord. Jon’s appeasement had changed to a brooding frown and she could tell that he was going over what she had said again and again. Both Tormund and Willa looked apprehensively at each other, a hint of the shadow of fear from the slavers flashed behind Tormund’s blue eyes. _It must be hard to see a warrior like Dorand fall_ , Dany surmised. Tormund and Dorand were so much alike, though their paths had been so different: uniting everyone or keeping one family alive. But they had both ended up in Shadowedge and stayed put for their loved ones. For one to die and leave his behind... _his fear doesn’t make him any less strong_. 

“They’ll be back here, then,” Willa said finally, seeming to have digested everything quickly, accepted it would happen, and looked to Dany again to remain in the present. “And that’s the last news we have: the dragons haven’t left.”

~

It had been a short battle of the wills with Dany and Tormund against Jon and Willa, but in the end, Dany found herself victoriously (albeit slowly) walking out of the house and the clearing with Tormund in the lead.

With a quick word of “you’re in charge” to Enda (who merely nodded, not looking up from watching Rose play), the four had left as Dany insisted she see Drogon. He hadn’t left her again. Dany was still shocked at the explanation: how Drogon and Saphira had come just in time to save the party of children, Dany, and Willa on the beach from the slavers, how they had then been circling above until Jon and the other villagers came to help, and how everyone thought they had disappeared back into the frozen wastes until Jon walked outside the next morning to feed Embar and came face to face with a huge black head peering around the side of the house.

Initially, Drogon had been extremely defensive of the little clearing Dany and Jon called home. He was loath to let Willa come on the first day until, in true Willa fashion, the huge dragon was sternly reprimanded. “I remembered you once saying about how intelligent they could be so I kindly told him to fuck off, that he did his part and now it’s time to let me take care of his mother,” Willa recounted.

“I was listening,” Jon chimed in, smiling at the memory, “It wasn’t kindly.”

After that, Drogon became slightly more docile as far as dragons go, but still periodically appeared in the clearing each day. Jon’s catchphrases had become, “She’s still not awake” and “Don’t eat the horse,” but he wasn’t sure Drogon understood (although Embar was still in the barn and not in the dragon’s stomach).

On the second day, while Willa and Tormund had come with Rose, Jon decided to follow Drogon when he left the clearing. He and Tormund only had to go a short distance before the air turned colder and they came upon a huge ice-white form with two small silver forms curled up together under the heart tree in The Gods’ Clearing. Like Drogon, she had been quite defensive at first meeting, but recognized Jon immediately, as did her two children. Jon described her as much more shy than Drogon, and very docile compared to when she was nesting. She watched lazily while the Scarlet and Violet curiously greeted Jon and Tormund and barely batted an enormous blue eye when Willa met them as well. 

They had not let any of the children or villagers meet the dragons yet, though all of them knew they were around as Drogon had flown over Shadowedge a few times since the first day on the beach. And the whole of Shadowedge felt the effects of having Saphira nearby. It seemed that although Saphira was not freezing everything to the point of certain death anymore, her presence did still make the world around her much colder. 

“It balances out a little with Drogon near her, like he’s the opposite and makes the world warmer. But she’s a much stronger influence,” Jon was saying as he now walked towards The God’s Clearing, holding Dany’s hand to help her along. He had moved past telling her that it was a bad idea to go when she had just woken from being barely conscious for a week, though Willa was still looking mildly sour. “People thought that the Targaryen dragons made the summers longer, and that when they started dwindling, the winters became harsher and crueler. Maybe there was some truth to it.”

“I never really noticed how my dragons affected the seasons because it was always hot in Essos,” Dany replied, trying to keep the tired from her voice. Though she didn’t want to admit it, Jon and Willa had probably been right about exerting herself too hard. But she _needed_ to see Drogon. The ache was greater than anything her body felt right now, and Willa had begrudgingly agreed that taking a short walk would not hurt the baby or Dany. “And there were only three of them for such a short while in Westeros, so we couldn’t have noticed anything there either. But you could be right. Maybe ice dragons are the opposite.”

As she said this, Tormund and Willa stopped ahead, right at The Gods’ Clearing’s treeline. Dany was struck with the memory of the last time she stood here, beneath the stars waiting to take another step towards her future and her future husband. The squeeze of his hand told her he remembered the same. But the joy of their wedding and the news of their new baby seemed far away now. 

 _Drogon is good news, though,_ Dany reminded herself, _regardless of what else he brings._

The first thing she saw in the clearing, however, was not the black shape of her child or the massive translucently white Saphira, but a zooming silver dragon roughly the size of an eagle flying pell-mell at Willa’s head, scooting to a halt just before it crashed and flapping to hover in mid-air. From the reddish sheen on its scales when the sun caught it, Dany knew this was the Scarlet; virtually a silver copy of Drogon that young - and maybe Saphira too, though Saphira probably would have been much larger.

“Why do you always do that, Nut?” the healer scolded crabbily, although she stroked the baby dragon’s cheek gently, eliciting growling purrs from the hatchling. 

“Nut?” Dany asked incredulously, glancing at Willa and then Jon and Tormund, who shrugged and rolled his eyes. 

“The reddish one is Nutmeg and the purple one is Lavender,” Willa said as if it were the most obvious fact. 

Tormund pursed his lips. “Not exactly names for dragons,” he grumbled. 

“Who made you the authority on dragon naming?” Willa snapped playfully, now stroking both hatchlings as the Violet - er, Lavender? - had flown over as well. 

Behind the two infant dragons, Dany glimpsed both Drogon and Saphira coming from under the weirwood tree. Perhaps it was because both times she had met Saphira, her body was in a traumatized state of near-freezing or death, but Dany had remembered her being a lot smaller. 

She had heard legends among the free folk, and Jon’s recounting of Old Nan’s tales as well, about the ice dragons being massive creatures of living ice that could swallow ships whole and freeze entire seas with their breath, but never believed they were real. Legends were, of course, based in some fact, but Dany always thought that there were simply wild dragons in the North, becoming more fantastical with time. Now, seeing Saphira with fresh eyes, she realized how wrong that assumption was. 

The dragon really did look to be made of living ice, her scales crystalline and translucent as if they could melt from too much sun. The little sun that was peeking through into the clearing refracted of the tips of her spinal plates, throwing thousands of tiny rainbows across the clearing and even across the jet-black scales of her mate.

With relief, Dany saw that Drogon seemed much less sick than the last time she had seen him. He was no longer dull and pathetic-looking, his scales had a vibrance greater than the rainbows dancing across his body and although Saphira was much larger, Drogon was equally imposing. To an outsider, Dany imagined he would still be the one to strike more fear into their heart, for he looked much more menacing in the stark contrast of black against white and red weirwood leaves. But to Dany, Drogon looked relaxed and relieved. 

While Saphira stopped a length from the small knot of people, Drogon continued until he was looking directly at Dany down his long snout. He inhaled deeply, flaring his nostrils like Embar would, but with much hotter breath that reminded her of summer. Tentatively, Dany reached up to stroke the black dragon’s scaly nose. Her hand moved gently across the warm scales, and a small smile passed over her lips as Drogon’s great eyes closed happily and his head lolled into her hand. The worry and pain, exhaustion and anxiety, that she had been feeling melted away as she traced along the map of her oldest child.

“ _Kesīr iksos aōha lenton_ ,” she murmured, “ _Kirimvose_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seemed like a very "Willa" thing to rename the two young dragons to her liking. Dany names her dragons after dead loved ones, Willa names these dragons after plants. 
> 
> Sorry if anyone feels like these first couple chapters are going to go very slowly, Dany has a lot of catching up and unpacking to do!
> 
> Sorry - I always forget to give you guys the translations of High Valyrian and Dothraki. Anyways:  
> "Rytsas issa tala" means "Hello my daughter"   
> "Issa" means "My"  
> "Kesīr iksos aōha lenton" basically means "welcome home"   
> And "Kirimvose" means "Thank you" (there is indeed a word for "thank you" in High Valyrian)
> 
> All of them are in High Valyrian. If you're interested in learning more, check out Dothraki Wiki! I use a basic online translator initially and then use Dothraki Wiki to try and make sure each line is accurately conjugated and grammatically sound, but I'm a little better at Dothraki than High Valyrian right now :)


	46. Planning Stages

The walk back home seemed much longer. Any energy Dany had from the anticipation of seeing Drogon and the other dragons had long worn off, and she felt as though she had been awake and active for days rather than a couple hours. 

Jon placed a gentle hand on her back as they walked into their home clearing. “Do you want to finish this tomorrow?” he asked quietly into her ear, his whiskery face brushing her cheek.

“No,” Dany replied softly, “No, I just need to sit down.” 

When they first entered the house, Dany experienced a momentary panic at the sight of no Rose, nor Enda or Nerell. However, it was quickly abated as Willa led them back to Rose’s room, where Rose was curled up in bed and Enda and Nerell slept on the floor. 

They looked so peaceful. So natural together, the sorrow that had contorted Enda and Nerell’s bodies gone and replaced with contented sleep. Dany caught herself wanting to stand and watch over them sleeping, like she sometimes did with Rose, but heard the muffled shuffling of those behind her and drew herself away.

Silently, all four adults backed out of the room and returned to their previous seats at the table. “They’ve been doing that every day,” Willa said once they were sitting, “They nap at the same time and go to sleep whenever Rose does. I think Enda and Nerell would sleep all day, though, if it wasn’t for Rose waking them up in the mornings. She’s the only reason they ever see the other children - everyone wants to play with Rose.”

“I can’t imagine how they’re feeling,” Dany murmured, looking to Jon whose eyes reflected her own heartache and still had the curious glint from before. Dorand had died so needlessly: for greed in the most awful of trades. After a life spent surviving and keeping his family safe, what a horrible way to go. And now...what about those promises he made? The wants he had? 

He would never hear about their elk hunt. He would never go hunting with them. He would never see the sun set over the sea, nor take his children there. Everything was just cut short. And now his children were alone.  _ Anyone alone in the world is a terrible thing _ .

“They’re strong kids,” Tormund grunted, breaking Dany’s thoughts, “They’ll pull through. So will we - if these fuckers are coming back again for the dragons like you think, we need to be ready to end that. So. What do we do?”

“W-why are you asking me?”

“Dany, just because you’re not the Queen of whatever that fucking long title is doesn’t mean you can’t make decisions,” Tormund said exasperatedly, “This is your home and I’m asking you, Dany, a member of this clan and the  _ person _ in Shadowedge who knows the most about this situation, what we should do.”

Dany opened her mouth to defend herself for a moment before closing it again. This was a lot to take in for only being awake for about half a day in the past week. But he was right. She had told Tyrion and Sansa she couldn’t help because of the path she was afraid to go down: getting a taste of true power again in a land that feared her and resented her. But this was different. This was her  _ home _ . She wasn’t taking power, she was helping her clan defend their home and their family. To stay exactly as they were: with Jon by her side instead of pitted against her, without people undermining her and inciting paranoia, in a place where she was no outsider.

She knew how to live here. How to nurture life instead of only causing death. No outsider could do that.  _ No outsider knows how to live here without someone to teach them. _

“Gather everyone together for a meeting next sunrise - ”

“Two sunrises from now,” Willa interjected, “You’re not going into Shadowedge until you’ve rested another day at least.”

“ _ Two _ sunrises from now, then,” she said to Tormund, glaring at Willa though silently acknowledging that she was right, “This is a decision we need to make as a clan - it’s already affecting everyone with the dragons here.”

A familiar twinkle sparked in Tormund’s blue eyes and he smiled. “All right then, I’ll see to it,” he said, raising a hand to clap Dany’s shoulder before thinking better of it, possibly from Jon visibly stiffening, and just patting her gently. He turned to Willa, motioning with his head towards Rose’s room before he and Jon rose and headed outside, discussing how best to spread the word of the meeting. 

Willa pointed a finger at Dany as she rose. “When I come here tomorrow, you’d better not have done anything more rigorous than walked to the barn, pet Embar’s nose, and walked back. Or I’m going to make the entire clan meet here instead. Actually, that’s not - ”

“I promise,” Dany said, holding up her hands in defeat to fend off the possibility of everyone gathering in her tiny house. Before Willa could move further, Dany added, “Willa?”

The healer turned back inquisitively, raising her eyebrows to prompt Dany. 

“Maybe tomorrow you can bring Enda and Nerell again? So that they can...be around Rose more...and, well...” She didn’t know how to explain her thoughts, knowing they were beyond just suggesting that Enda and Nerell get to spend some time with Rose, but her friend seemed to understand. 

“I think that’s a good idea,” she said. 

For the briefest moment, Dany thought she saw Willa’s eyes flash with regret, but the healer turned away before she could be sure.

~

Dany kept her promise. As soon as Willa and Tormund had left with the still half-asleep Enda and Nerell, Jon had helped her back into bed and laid down as well. They lay facing each other, studying the person before them. Part of Dany wished to just lose herself in this moment and forget that there was any pain or sorrow in the world. There was only Jon. She busied her mind studying every facet of him as if she had not mapped every inch hundreds of times before: his face, his hair, the scruff of his beard that tickled her cheeks. The way his eyes crinkled in the corners. The little gold and indigo flecks in the gray of his irises that gave them depth past other gray eyes. The crest of his upper lip, which she loved to trace her tongue over, always eliciting a gentle sigh from him and making his arms immediately wrap more firmly around her. The shape of his nose, just like Rose’s, and the scar over his eye that he’d had since before they met. 

Reaching out, she ghosted a finger from his forehead down. “How?” she asked in a whisper. Dany had never asked Jon about his scars before. She had seen them. As many times as she had mapped his body, she had seen them. Traced over them, kissed them away with Davos’s words from the first time they met ringing in her ears. She knew...mostly. But she had never wanted to know more of what could have been. Now, however, what could have been seemed so horrifically tangible. It was easier to ask about this scar, though. 

“An eagle,” Jon replied, “Well, a skinchanger in an eagle? When I lived with the free folk for the first time.”

“Skinchanger?” 

“Someone who can enter and control an animal’s mind,” he said, “You’re a warg if you can possess a dog or a wolf’s mind. They’re very rare, probably even more so now that there’s so few of us. Free folk have an...interesting relationship with them, but the people in the South have hunted them down over time, fearing them and their power. When I was a boy, I wanted to be one.”

Dany raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes Westeros seems stranger than Sothoryos. And there are Brindled Men there.”

Jon smirked, playing with a strand of silver hair. “I’m not sure about sometimes,” he said, “We have a half-ice dragon hatchling name Nut flying around the clearing where you and I were married under the branches of an apathetic heart tree.”

“That’s fair,” Dany joked with a smile, “Although I’m glad they’re here. Part of me thought I would never see another dragon when we left the Mammoth’s Head, even with the egg. Seeing Drogon made me hopeful again.”

“I’m glad they came too.” Jon’s face grew much more serious and he dropped Dany’s hair to stroke over her cheek. “Part of me thought...when Myl came running...that I’d lo- ”

Dany placed a finger over his lips. “Shh, don’t say it,  _ mahrazhkem _ . I’m here,” she took his hand from her face to place over her stomach, where she now had a name for the butterfly flutters she had felt when she woke up, “Our family is here.”

Smiling, Jon ran his hand over the swell. “New, old, and winged.” He cradled her stomach, at first still smiling with what Dany could only imagine were thoughts of their future child, but then growing serious again. “Dany,” he started, “About the ‘new’ part….”

She stiffened, and Jon quickly added onto his statement, “Not the baby. It’s just...I’m thinking of adding onto the house again.”

“Now?” Dany asked bewildered, “Jon, if you want our children to have separate rooms it doesn’t have to be  _ that _ immediate. Can’t you wait?” Flashes of him falling off the barn roof before Rose was born quickly materialized in her mind. Was this Jon’s way of preparing for a baby like how Dany rearranged the house? Did fathers do that? And why did he always seem to do more dangerous things when they were expecting a baby? 

“Well...it was more for if we had  _ other _ children,” he said, tongue rolling carefully over each word and eyes breaking from holding their gaze with Dany. Absently, he was tracing over her stomach in a strangely agitated pattern. 

“As in more?”

“More...now,” he said. 

Furrowing her brow, she used the voice one would perhaps use with a rather dim horse to ask her next question. “Jon, you remember how long one baby takes, right?” She placed her hand over his to pause him from tracing over their current growing child. “Because there’s only one in there right now.”

“No, not ours. Well, ours, but not like that,” Jon said, punctuating his words with a frustrated sigh. “What I mean is, I’ve just been thinking a lot. About...Enda and Nerell. And I think, well, I think - ”

“You think we should take them in?”

“We  _ can _ , Dany,” Jon said, his eyes glinting as they had before and eagerness etched over his face, “I’ve been thinking about it all week and we can. With another room we’ll have plenty of space for now. And Embar’s already made hunting a lot easier. And we do well with foraging. And I just think that Dorand would have wanted them to keep growing up with a family. And we can...”

Before he could continue on more, Dany brought her hand to his chest, pressing gently to stop him. “Jon, calm down,” she said, gently smiling, “you don’t need to justify it to me. I agree.”

“You do?”

Dany nodded. “I do. I understand...I was actually thinking about it earlier. Kind of. I asked Willa to bring them back with her tomorrow so they could see Rose. But...I didn’t mean just to see Rose? When Tormund said that Enda and Nerell couldn’t stay at Willa’s, it just reminded me so much of when Viserys and I were little. 

“Every time some wealthy person took us in, I thought that I would have a family. Have the perfect mother and father like I always expected, although I didn’t know what that was. And every time we would stay for a while and then be right out on the streets again. Nobody really cared for us, they just wanted to amuse themselves.”

“That isn’t what Tormund meant,” Jon said defensively.

“I know,” Dany said, pressing a hand onto his chest, “I didn’t mean it like that. Nobody here would do something that vain. And anyone in this village would take care of Enda and Nerell if they could. I just mean that I remember how it felt. And knowing your parents must make it much, much worse. Dorand saved our family. If Enda and Nerell agree, we can help his...ours.”

Gray eyes shining, showing off their multi-colored flecks, Jon smiled and traced over Dany’s cheek, fingers coming to rest on her chin which he tilted slightly upwards. Leaning in, he kissed her deeply, pouring in emotion that words, even Valyrian poetry, could not describe. “Have I told you lately what an extraordinary woman you are?” he asked, nose just brushing hers.

“Have I told you lately what remarkable man you are?”

“I love you, Dany.”

“As I love you,” Dany replied. He kissed her again, starting out sweetly, only to pull her ever closer as she drew her tongue across his upper lip and melted into his warm embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Dany's starting to get a little taste of leading again, we'll see what that holds in the next few chapters! What's stranger: Sothoryos or a half-ice dragon named Nut flying around where Jon and Dany were married?
> 
> If you haven't traveled down the basilisk lair that is Sothoryos...it's a very strange place.


	47. Family Time

“You’re sure you’ll be all right?”

“You’ll barely be away.”

“But maybe if I just w-”

“Jon, I hate living this way. We need to get past this.”

“We will, it’s only been one day. It’s just for to-”

“No,” Dany said harshly, “Now. We can’t be like this every time one of us needs to go somewhere without the other.”

“But it’s not  _ every _ time. Just this time.”

Dany rolled her eyes pointedly at Jon from her position sitting on the bed. They had been having this disagreement since they woke up this morning: Jon should go hunting, Jon needs to check and set his traps, Jon doesn’t want to leave Dany and Rose alone, it’s too soon after what happened on the beach. 

Unfortunately, Dany wanted to agree, but it made her fight much harder for him to leave and consequently made him second-guess leaving every other moment. 

They  _ needed _ to be apart. Dany was sure of it. Of course she didn’t want to, but could she and Jon realistically stay together for their entire lives without spending a day without one another? 

Up until the ill-fated elk hunting expedition, it had never been a huge event for Jon to be gone for the day or even overnight. Dany would spend time with Willa or go about her day as usual, worrying just the normal amount for a wife whose husband had the slight potential of running into a very large ice bear or a cannibalistic nomad. They had survived worse, proved themselves in worse situations, so why dwell too much?

And then the nightmares started. Then Dany and Rose were almost killed or worse, taken away. Then Jon found Dany lying on the beach, silver hair stained with blood and scarcely a trace of life in her. It wasn’t unreasonable to wish to cling to each other after that.

_ But we need to move on _ , Dany had told herself with steely resolve,  _ everything needs to move forward _ . 

Just like her dreams, which had chosen a new subject last night.

Instead of bloody gray beaches and howling wind that warned of a coming storm, she dreamt of a lone, bronze-colored direwolf stalking beneath the twisted limbs of a weirwood tree. A shadowy figure came to rest on the wolf’s broad back and spread its leathery wings, which gleamed a ghostly silver in the pockets of moonlight filtered between the weirwood’s broad red leaves. The direwolf had turned to Dany and she awoke to Rose’s morning calls of “Mama” and an image of familiar violet eyes burned into her mind. 

This time, she tried not to dwell on it too much. The dream had not sat with her hauntingly the way her ominous dreams of the beach had. And Dany felt very certain that attempting to interpret any dreams, horrifying or simply about eating a piece of bread or seeing a violet-eyed direwolf, was not in her best interest. After all, she had been wrong about the last one. It hadn’t been about Jon at all….

Her husband sat down next to her with a sigh, his hand over her knee and his eyes regarding her closely. “I just...I can’t help think that the last time I left to go hunting, you didn’t want me to but told me to go anyways. And then I did and…”

“But this isn’t last time,” Dany said earnestly, “This is this time. And I’m not helpless. If I needed you to stay, I would tell you.”

“Would you?”

_ Fair point. _ Setting her jaw, Dany nodded. “Yes. I would - I will,” she took his hand, dropping her voice and holding his intense gaze, “I will, _anni_ _  mahrazhkem _ .”

Before Jon could respond, there was a prompt knock at the door followed by a swift entrance from Willa, Enda and Nerell trailing behind her. “I hope you’ve kept your promise, Dany,” Willa warned as she entered. 

These were the very few moments in which Dany missed the afforded privacy that came with nobility as compared with how she lived now.  _ But was there anything else to miss? _ She smiled privately, knowing the answer, and kissed Jon sweetly before their visitors could make it much further through the door.

“I am,” she murmured.

~

The most uncomfortable times in Dany’s life were when Willa frowned while listening to her stomach. It happened when she was pregnant with Rose too, and each time there was never anything negative to say. And yet, Willa always frowned and Dany always stopped breathing.

Her stomach was still marked with blue and green over the alabaster skin. Dany knew her face was worse, still a touch swollen and purple over her cheek, but the sight of her stomach - the only protection her baby had - damaged and Willa’s frown made her ill and anxious.

_ I can feel the baby, _ she told herself calmingly,  _ I can. It’s kicking already, I know it is _ .

She didn’t even know why Willa always listened. Nobody could hear the baby from the outside. Jon often tried in jest, but they both knew it was a joke. She hadn’t even mentioned the kicking yet. And yet when she asked Willa once, the healer had simply shrugged evasively and said, “I do.”

“All right,” Willa pronounced, raising her head up and letting Dany pull her clothes back over her to hide the unsightly bruising.

“You used to say ‘strong’ with Rose,” Dany told her, more hotly than intended.

“Rose kicked enough to tell me she was,” Willa said, showing no sign of registering Dany’s tone, “But this one’s a little quieter.” She put a hand over Dany’s, which were rubbing slow, soothing circles over the swell of her belly, and gave an encouraging smile. “Your baby’s okay, Dany. I would tell you if they weren’t.”

Nodding, subdued, Dany glanced over to the table, where Nerell sat staring at a wall with his head resting on his folded arms. Enda had been tugged into the other room by a very aggressive toddler, and hadn’t returned, although she heard the soft voice of the girl float out from the room every so often. 

_ Is this what it will be like? _ Dany wondered. She had Jon had not brought up their idea of adopting the orphaned siblings yet, knowing that the first priority was the clan meeting tomorrow, but the thoughts of suddenly having four (three and a half, right now) children were very present in her mind. Would they want to live here? What if one of them was unhappy - like now when Enda was with Rose and Nerell was alone? What if they didn’t like how she and Jon ran the household? How were they going to be able to help the kids to overcome the loss of their father? Dany and Jon had both lost their parents, but the only one remembered between the two of them was the death of Ned Stark. 

How do you help a child grieve? 

According to Willa, Nerell and Enda barely spoke. But Enda spoke around Rose.  _ When she’s not focused on her thoughts _ , Dany mused. It reminded her of the game she and Jon played after nightmares. Telling stories to take their minds away from the fear or pain. Spending time with Rose was like that for Enda, it seemed. But what about Nerell? 

“Are you listening?”

Dany jerked her head back to face Willa. “Hmm - what? No, sorry,” she said, eyes trailing back to the boy at her table. “I can go to the Gods’ Clearing to see Drogon, right? While you’re here with Rose.”

“You look better than yesterday,” Willa assessed, “And it would be good to see if you can do the walk since you won’t be able to ride Embar into the village tomorrow. But...I don’t think you should go alone. And,  _ as I was saying _ , I wanted to mix up a few remedies for you. Especially that sore in your cheek, it still looks bad.”

Without thinking, Dany poked her tongue at the sore, lumpy area that protested whenever she spoke. “I won’t be going alone,” she said, rolling her tongue back to its normal place and ignoring the mild sting she’d caused. Dany stood up and crossed over to where Nerell was still looking unblinkingly at the wall. She placed a hand on his shoulder and the boy turned his head around to look up at her with dull eyes. 

“Nerell,” Dany said, “Would you like to meet a dragon?”

For a moment, she thought that Nerell would simply turn back to the wall and ignore her, that she had completely misjudged finding something that he would enjoy doing. But then, he blinked and nodded slowly, the barest trace of a smile over his mouth for an infinitesimal second, which Dany returned. 

~

Together, Dany and Nerell trod over the crisp, snow-covered land north towards the God’s Clearing. The journey was quiet, although Dany found it to be a strong contrast to the quiet from when Enda and Nerell were in the house. Instead, Nerell seemed more comfortable, almost excited. His brown eyes were bright and alert, and Dany watched him turning back and forth to take in his surroundings. Every time the woods made a sound, his head whipped around, as if he was hoping to catch his first glimpse of a dragon.

It was strange to be offering to take a child to see dragons. In another life, Dany would have never suggested someone, especially one so young, approach her dragons besides herself. But Drogon was demonstrably more at ease now, and Dany could say the same for the other three as well, though she wouldn’t call them  _ her _ dragons.

Perhaps dragons’ demeanours were a product of their climate. The cold made people more sluggish, and the heat made them irritable.  _ Although the cold makes them just as irritable _ , Dany amended, thinking of some free folk and Northmen she had met,   _ just sluggishly irritable _ . She wouldn’t describe Drogon or Saphira as irritable or sluggish, but simply as mildly curious about humans and surprisingly comfortable with them. A tiny part of Dany missed the reactive and fiery black dragon of her old life, but it was muted by the excitement to be able to share dragons with others as something more than a weapon of fear.

Seeing the trees thin out, Dany paused before they walked into the clearing. “I just have one thing to tell you before we go in,” she said to Nerell, leaning down as much as her body would allow so that she could be on his level. 

Nerell looked back at her inquisitively and Dany took that to mean that he was ready to hear what she had to say. “Dragons are nothing to be afraid of, but they can be quite scary when you meet them for the first time,” she explained, “Just stay by me and be gentle and calm. They’ll come to you. And if you want to leave, tell me, okay?” 

The boy nodded, now staring straight ahead. He breathed in deeply, as if he was willing himself to be calm just like Dany had said. A tentative hand slipped into Danys and squeezed slightly. Smiling, she led them forward.

The Gods’ Clearing looked virtually the same as the day before: cold, a touch misty, and home to four dragons. Drogon and Saphira were curled up together near the heart tree and both lifted their heads when Dany and Nerell entered the clearing. Beside her, Dany heard Nerell’s breathing speed up and his hand squeeze hers more tightly. 

Reassuringly, she squeezed back. While Saphira remained where she was (Dany noticed the two small balls of silver tucked under her wing), Drogon got up, stretching out his leathery black wings like Dany would with her arms after a restful sleep. The great dragon lumbered slowly over to where Dany had stopped with Nerell a little way forward from the treeline. 

“ _ Rytsas issa tresy _ ,” she murmured, reaching out with her free hand as he approached and leaned his scaly head down towards the two. One amber eye glanced at Nerell before it closed, relaxing into Dany’s hand moving smoothly over the rich scales.

Nerell’s mouth had come slightly open as he watched Dany pet Drogon, the dragon purrs rumbling low throughout the clearing. The young boy’s eyes were as round as copper coins. His hand shook in Dany’s, though she didn’t know if it was from excitement or fright. As she watched, Nerell ever so carefully raised his free hand up to Drogon’s snout. It was shaking terribly ( _ a mix of both emotions _ , Dany thought), but he kept moving it forward, squeezing his eyes shut as he did.  

Hand reached scales and Dany heard Nerell take in a huge, quavering breath, his eyes opening again in shock. Drogon opened his eyes as well and leaned away from Dany and Nerell, shaking out his head with a great shudder and making Nerell jump. The jump startled Drogon, who looked down at the boy as if he had no idea what to make of him before turning to Dany once more. Her dragon regarded her briefly and then turned around, fanning his wings out and suddenly taking off at a loping pace. He flapped thunderously, soon lifting up out of the clearing to disappear behind the tall trees of the Haunted Forest. After the tip of his tail had disappeared, Saphira laid her head back down. Her blue eye stayed trained on Dany and Nerell, but she made no move to come near them nor to shoo them away.

Dany smirked.  _ I’d think the same thing if people came over after I got Rose down for a nap _ . She admired how relaxed Saphira seemed while Drogon was gone. Perhaps that’s who she needed to model herself after on days like today when Jon left in order to feed his family.

Suddenly, Nerell swayed and plopped down on the snow, staring at Saphira with the same wide eyes. 

“Nerell, are you okay?” Dany asked, kneeling down next to him, concerned.  _ Maybe this wasn’t a good idea _ . He seemed overwhelmed, still shaking.

The boy looked up at Dany, staring back into her eyes for a while before finally speaking. “I-I-I really touched a dragon, didn’t I?” he asked, brown eyes somehow growing wider.

Unable to help herself, Dany laughed. “Yes,” she said, grinning and brushing over his hair, “Yes, you really did.” At this, Nerell laughed as well. His laugh transformed him. Instantly lighter, so different from the boy who had been sitting at her table so recently, he looked like a boy of eight again. 

“Come on,” Dany grunted, pushing herself back up from kneeling, “Let’s leave the sleeping dragons to their nap and get back.”

Again they walked in comfortable silence, leaving the clearing behind for the shadowy woods that looked a bit gloomy under the gray sky. Nerell’s posture had straightened up since the walk there. His step was springy and energetic. He continuously got a few paces ahead of Dany, but each time stopped to wait for her to catch up. 

Dany could tell he was on the verge of speech each time, but decided to let it happen naturally instead of prompting him. By the fifth time he turned around to wait for her, it did. 

“How come the white dragon didn’t come up to us, Dany?” Nerell asked as she came up to him, “How come only the black one did?”

“Dragons take a very long time to build trust with a person,” Dany replied, “I’ve only just met Saphira, but I’ve known Drogon his entire life.”

“Is that why he came to rescue you?”

Dany paused, hoping for a moment that she had heard the question incorrectly. She knew what came next. There could only be one topic Nerell was headed to. 

_ How do you help a child to grieve? _

“Yes,” she said demurely, “I think so.”

Nerell nodded, looking down. “I wish he had come sooner,” he muttered to his feet. Dany heard the faintest sniffle, but made no comment about it. Instead, she knelt down next to him like she had in the clearing and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

The boy looked up at her, and she could see the red rim encroaching around his eyes.  _ Grieve with them _ . “I do too,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. 

“Did...did my Da help save you too?” Nerell asked. His lip quivered, though Dany could tell that he was desperately trying to stop it. 

“Yes,” Dany said again, “He did.”

Slowly, Nerell nodded once more. The boy’s chest heaved with a large breath and he glanced up, perhaps looking for a trace of the dragons or maybe a trace of where his father had gone just past the sky. “Can I come back with you sometimes and visit the dragons?” Nerell asked Dany while still looking at the sky, “I want to build trust like you.”

“Anytime you’d like,” Dany replied with a smile, giving his shoulder another squeeze. She stood up and offered Nerell her hand. “Now let’s go home,” she said, “Save your sisters from the work Willa probably has them doing.”

  
If Nerell heard Dany’s slip, he did not let on, but instead took her hand and smiled as they walked home together. Little rays of the sun peeked through the gray clouds overhead and Dany wondered, as Nerell helped her over a fallen log in the path, if perhaps Dorand  _ was  _ just past the sky. At the white shores before the sea of light, knowing his children were safe and he could be ready to go on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Family bonding, anyone?
> 
> Couple more chapters to chronicle these first few days after Dany's woken up and then we'll finally be able to move forward a little bit. Just for reference: Enda's about twelve, Nerell's about eight, Rose is 15 months, and Dany is 4 months along with Baby 2. Any guesses for Baby 2?
> 
> Translations:  
> "Anni mahrazhkem" means "my husband" in Dothraki and has become Dany's chosen pet name for Jon  
> "Rytsas issa tresy" means "hello my son" in Valyrian
> 
> I've tried to be deliberate with which language Dany uses when (she only talks to Embar in Dothraki and to Drogon only in Valyrian), but she tends to interchange based on mood with Jon. She uses Dothraki for the pet name because the first time she felt loved was among the Dothraki.


	48. Clan Meeting

Night set in unnoticed by the occupants of the small house in the clearing. Their visitors had left after supper, Embar had been fed and settled for the night, and Rose nodded off the sleep soon after. For the first time, she stayed up all day without taking a nap and it had been an exhausting experience. 

But something changed over the course of the day and Rose, having not gone to sleep, was able to witness it when her mother and Nerell came back from visiting the dragons. 

Speech.

As soon as Willa asked how the walk to see the dragons had gone, Nerell was unable to stop talking. It had been a fairly short visit, and yet he went on for the rest of the day about dragons. What they looked like, how they flew, how big they were, how you needed to build trust with them, how one felt when you stroked over its nose with your hand. 

It rubbed off on Enda as well, and she listened to her brother with rapt attention, making remarks of “wow!” and “you’re really lucky” at the appropriate times to fuel Nerell’s ongoing monologue. The crowning moment came when Dany, after making the two promise not to tell anyone else about what they were about to see, showed them the dragon egg from the mantle. 

“It’s Drogon and Saphira’s third egg,” she explained, showing it to all three children, “But it didn’t hatch with the other two. I’ve been trying to hatch it ever since, but so far it’s only been glowing.”

Both Nerell and Enda carefully pressed their palms to it, although neither showed any sign that they could feel the presence of life the way Dany knew she could. Rose was less interested than Nerell and Enda, but pointed to the egg to mimic the older children and very much enjoyed the attention when they began to try and teach her the word “egg” (so far, the toddler could say “eh!” at very loud volumes) up until Willa announced that it was getting late and the children should say their goodbyes. She looked happier than she had since the day on the beach, much more at ease as she heard sentences instead of single words from her two charges. 

“Unless you want us to stay until Jon gets home?” Willa checked with Dany. 

Dany shook her head. Like Rose, she too was exhausted from the day. The buoyant elation from the time spent with Nerell and Enda had turned to heavy lead and she wanted nothing more than to lie down.

Therefore, after putting Rose to bed and seeing Willa and the children out, Dany changed into her nightshirt and fell asleep nearly as soon as she laid down on the bed. She barely had time to consider how late it was becoming and that Jon was still not home before she drifted off into a dreamless slumber as the sky outside darkened.

She was drawn out of her sleep not an hour later. Or perhaps it was seven. The passage of time had quit existing, just like her thoughts. At first, the only sign she was awake was the sudden knowledge that she had hiked up her shirt getting comfortable. She was on her back. The furs tickled her bare skin. Then she felt a warm, calloused hand trail carelessly between the furs and her skin, over her stomach. 

Then, a kick. 

Stronger than what she had felt earlier in the day and the day before. The hand paused, pressing gently so as not to harm the bruises but still be firm. She heard Jon’s quiet, “Hm,” as he resumed feeling along the swell of their child. It stirred the wisps of hair by her ear, making her skin tingle with the realization of how close he was.

Dany kept her eyes closed, relishing in the feel of his hand over her, comforting and secure. She could have laid there, silent, for hours as Jon mapped over her in search of a sign that the baby was inside her. 

Another kick. 

He stopped his hand again, this time with a small jolt.  _ How long has he been trying to feel this? _ Dany wondered, both amused and endeared. He sighed, a tone of dissatisfaction coating the long breath, and began to continue along.

“You weren’t imagining it,” Dany murmured, opening her eyes and turning to look at his face only a breath away. 

Jon gave one note of a chuckle, catching her gaze and pausing his hand again. “How long have you been awake?”

“Only for the last two kicks. That feels nice.”

He started up again, beginning to roam more deliberately for Dany’s benefit rather than his own satisfaction. “When did you get in?” Dany asked, eyes closing again as she relaxed into the rhythm of Jon’s hand once more.

“Maybe a couple hours ago,” Jon replied, “Caught some hares and I prepared them for some dried meat. Came to bed after, thought I felt the baby when I kissed you goodnight and I’ve been here ever since.” He drew his arm around her waist and tugged her closer against his body before languidly rounding over her stomach again. “I forgot how much I missed this.”

“Hmm,” Dany said, smiling, “Has it been active in there?”

“I think I’ve felt a few,” Jon told her, “But I could’ve imagined it. Although you said you felt them too. With Rose I didn’t really try to feel her kicking before they were obvious. But this time I really want to feel her!”

“Her?”

“Dany, it’s another girl. I know it already.”

“How could you possibly know that already?”

Jon would have been regarding her very seriously if his eyes hadn’t been glimmering with mirth in the dim light of the fire. “Because I just know it,” he said jovially, “Every time I’ve ever imagined our whole future family, there’s always been three girls. And that’s what’s going to happen.”

“Because your imagination says that’s what happens, it will happen?” Dany repeated sarcastically.

Turning up his chin dramatically, Jon said, “You can make fun of it all you want, but when you get pregnant again and we have a third daughter, we’ll see who’s laughing.”

“What if we don’t have a second daughter?” 

Jon brought his chin back down so that he could narrow his gray eyes at his wife. 

Shaking her head, Dany snorted a laugh. “Fine,  _ mahrazhkem _ , I’ll make you a wager. Choose what you want if we have three daughters.  _ But _ , if this baby is a boy -  _ or _ the next one - you have to tell Tormund and Willa the story about hunter in the Vale who thought you were a direwolf.”

Jon groaned.

“It’s a wager,” Dany chastised, “You can’t complain.”

“All right, fair. But if  _ I’m _ right, no matter how far away that is,  _ you _ have to tell them the story about when you first learned what a tree well was.”

It was Dany’s turn to narrow her eyes, knowing immediately what he meant, and Jon let out a barking chuckle. “It barely reached your ankles.”

“I was upside down!”

“ _ And _ it reached your ankles,” he snorted.

“Shut up and rub the baby, Jon,” Dany mock-snapped, trying to avoid smirking with him. 

Jon did as he was told, still grinning as he started caressing over her again. “I love you, my Southern girl,” he teased. 

“And I love you, my rare black direwolf.”

~

“Have you decided on what you’re going to say during this meeting?”

Dany shrugged in response to Jon’s question. They were walking along the path to Shadowedge, Ghost pulling Rose in her sled just ahead of Dany and Jon. Rose was alternating between shouting “Goats!” (she had renamed Ghost once again) and “Whee!” as they went.

“A bit,” she replied, “I’d like to hear from everyone else first.”

Jon didn’t respond, and Dany expected that her comment had shut down any conversation he’d had in mind.

Truthfully, she had a fairly extensive plan in her mind for how to handle the Essosi returning to their shores. But, being extensive, it was very ambitious and she feared that as much as Tormund had referred to her as a member of this clan and village, her plan would feel out of touch to everyone else. 

It was strange to think tactically again. To be thrust back into the role of a leader. To know that people were expecting her to help them move forward against an opposing force. 

But, she told herself, it was different this time. 

This time she wasn’t conquering or destroying, but maintaining and keeping free. And Daenerys Targaryen would have never suggested the plan that Dany had come up with. 

She had decided not to ask Jon, nor anyone else, for help initially. Not out of disdain or feeling that they weren’t up to the task, but purely to prove to herself that she could still do this. Now, once she explained her ideas to everyone else, she was relying on their help. This was, as she had said to Tormund, a decision for the whole clan. And perhaps for the whole of the North as well.

These thoughts did little to calm Dany’s nerves, which had been quivering on edge since she woke up.  _ What if I can’t do this anymore? _

_ What if I never really had? _

What if Daenerys Targaryen would have never suggested this plan because it really wasn’t a good one? Because her advisors wouldn’t have agreed, her enemies would have laughed, and the world she had been trying to build would have turned to ash.

_ It still did, or would have...in the end.  _

Most of the villagers were already gathered around the central fire when the little family showed up from the western woods. Scanning the crowd quickly, Dany noticed that none of the younger children were present, not even Nerell and Enda. 

“Rather grim,” Jon remarked so that only Dany could hear as they approached. 

“It’s the first death since Winterfell,” Dany replied, equally as quiet, “And it was Dorand.” She choked on the last word.

She heard Jon grunt in agreement. A few of the villagers nodded as they joined the group, Jon lifting Rose out of the sled and into his arms. The rest, though they looked over, remained apprehensive and stony-faced. Their eyes seemed hard with blame. Shaking off the intrusive thought, Dany looked over to Tormund, catching his eye and motioning for him to start. Tormund organized the meeting. It was fitting for him to speak first.

“Hmph,” he cleared his throat, pausing for the crowd to settle. “I know that this was supposed to be a good occasion for us to get together. The elk hunt was successful and we would have shared that bounty with everyone and celebrated our new clansmen and women,” he said, gesturing to the three villagers who had come of age this year, “But instead we’re here because while we hunted, our village was attacked. Some of us older folk remember the slaver attacks before the dead began to rise. And now it’s happened once more. 

“We all know what happened to Dorand. And we all know that we owe it to him that none of our children were taken, that we still have a healer who’s been able to mend these wounds. But we also know that we owe it to others that everyone was saved.”

Tormund looked around, pausing to allow his speech to sink in. Dany could tell that the dragons were not new news to any of the people of Shadowedge, but she could also see that the information did not sit kindly with everyone. Several people looked distinctly uncomfortable. Willa’s mouth was a thin line of disapproval as she scanned around the faces that looked down at their feet, off into the distance, or frowned at their hands.  _ They mistrust dragons as much as other Westerosi _ . Dany couldn’t help but, again, feel that she was to blame. Had they ever seen the docile side of Drogon, or any other dragon? The most experience her people had with dragons was the glimpses of them as a sign of her power or as a weapon against (or for) the Night King. Something to fear. Of which to be wary. 

“We think,” Tormund explained, glancing at Dany again,  “That the slavers will come back. Others too. Not because they were unable to make off with anything. But because they know what lives in our woods and they-”

“Let ‘em have ‘em,” interjected Inniq, a hotheaded man about Dany’s age who was best known for the disfiguring scars down his face from wrestling a shadowcat trying to make off with the fowl he snared. He won. “If the foreign cunts wanna come back, let ‘em have the dragons. Gets ‘em off our backs and they can go catch people som’ere else.”

Most people still were frowning, but a few seemed to agree with Inniq’s suggestion. They were nodding their heads in his direction, looking thoughtful.

“That’s ridiculous,” Birger countered, “Taking dragons is no better than taking our children! And they have their own as well. You’d let them break up another family?”

“These dragons saved our children,” a woman added above the hum of agreements and dissents from other people, “they are the guests of Shadowedge and have done us a service.”

“They’re not human, Kolla. Last I heard, guest right isn’t for dragons.”

Dany’s voice escaped before she had time to think about how to begin speaking. “It doesn’t matter if they’re guests or not. They can’t be taken away from here,” she said, “And what makes you think they’ll leave us alone just because we don’t impede their poaching?”

Murmurs of agreement rose again. 

She fixed Inniq with a fierce glare, which he returned, amber eyes intense enough that she felt Jon go to take a step forward beside her. Close enough to make a subtle movement, Dany gripped his hand, holding him in place behind her. 

“And who’s to say that they minute they come ashore,  _ you  _ wouldn’t turn on us?” Inniq spat harshly.

Suddenly, Dany was intensely reminded of every time someone expected less of her during her quest to become Queen. Viserys thought she was weak. The Dothraki refused to become her  _ khalasar _ . Xaro tried to charm her to hide his intentions. The Yunkish did the same. Kraznys insulted her in her own mother tongue, thinking she was a foreign whore. Even Ser Barristan and Jorah doubted her decisions. 

And when she got to Westeros, she was treated as a foreigner. Used like a pawn in someone else’s war, thanklessly sacrificing everything she had worked for and then realizing it no longer meant anything. Then leaving everything behind to come to the only place she had ever called home with the only person she truly loved. She had never stayed in one place for so long, and she never planned to leave.

And this is where her decisions had left her? With the implication that she was more closely connected to these monsters than her own people? Is that how people thought of her now? Seven Hells, Dorand had died for her! And Inniq thought she would turn on them?

Anger seethed inside her. At Inniq, at the slavers, at herself.

_ I’m not running. _

“You’re right,” Dany replied gently, a well practiced smile playing across her lips, “I don’t want to fight them.”

Inniq smirked. 

“I want to end them.” Her voice changed, gentleness gone and darkness seeping in, “Their conquest. Their purpose. Their reason for living. I want them out of  _ my _ home. Away from  _ my _ family.  _ My _ dragons. And  _ my _ people. And like it or not,  _ you’re _ one of those people.” 

Dany spread her arms, gesturing around to the houses, people, snow, and fire. “And this,” she said, “is my home. You accepted me as one of you when no one else would. When there was nowhere left in the world for me to turn to. You taught me how to live here and how to thrive here. I’m not leaving you. Nor are the ice dragons. They were here long before me - long before any of us, if the legends are right - living and thriving. They’re a part of our home. We  _ have _ to protect them. And ourselves. We  _ have _ to keep our home safe.”

“How?” Willa called out in prompt. She winked at Dany encouragingly. 

Nodding, Dany took a breath, readying herself to explain this plan. “I said that you all taught me, a woman from the South - the very South - how to live here,” she said in practiced storyteller introduction, “Well, what would have happened if I hadn’t had a teacher?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! It's me! I'm back...sort of. With a long Author's Note:
> 
> I think I mentioned a while ago that I was going back to school (sittingonyourfloor wants to be a librarian) and I have been basically absorbed in school work since my last update. But, I know how this story is going to end (I literally have the ending scene, I just need to get there!), and I will write that ending (and hopefully will write an eventual sequel). Just, maybe, a little more slowly than before.
> 
> That being said, in my month of soul-searching, I believe that I may make significant revisions to earlier chapters as well as adding chapters in and losing some of the softer ones. A couple things I'm considering working on are buildups to specific plot points and working with Willa more. A huge struggle for me in writing narratives this long is that some threads get lost or don't fit properly. This story is kind of my pet project/meditation to prove that I can write more than flash fiction, so I've always considered it a draft and take all of your comments as though I was workshopping the story. So we'll see where that goes.
> 
> Final announcement: I'm considering pulling some of my flash writing exercises and favorite chapters from this fic ("Jelmāzmo," "The Last of the Lannisters," and "The Heart Tree's Witness" come to mind) and to make a "Tales from the North" collection. Any recommendations on chapters you love or things you wish you knew more about would be very appreciated.


	49. Wolfish Plans

Willa was frowning, scrutinizing three small yellow rocks sitting on top of a cloth on her table. Her golden eyes were narrowed, making her look oddly catlike as if she was contemplating on whether or not to pounce. The healer’s dark eyebrows sank further down her forehead and she shook her head, tutting.

Dany leaned close over her shoulder. “You don’t think it will work?”

“These can catch on fire but they can’t make things explode, not in the way you’re thinking,” Willa explained, “Anyway, they aren’t exactly lying around everywhere to collect. Where did you come up with the idea?”

Dany shrugged evasively as thoughts of green flames flickered menacingly. Wildfire had been on her mind since she first thought of her campaign to destroy the cliffside paths that allow Shivering Sea travelers access to the interior of the north. This was only the first step, but she hoped it would be enough to be the last.

_ The wildfire’s just from Tyrion’s stories _ , she had consistently told herself. She remembered the sunlit balconies and warm breezes that wafted through the linen curtains in Mereen. It was there where Tyrion regaled her with tales from King’s Landing. Of Baratheons, Starks, Lannisters, Tyrells. Of kingly wars and an inky bay that had burned emerald with the skeletons of doomed ships. 

Not from the other stories of the caches that had blown apart King’s Landing. Not from her family history. And not from mania of her father.  _ Definitely not _ . 

It wasn’t as if she wanted to make  _ actual _ wildfire, that would be ridiculous. In fact, she was pretty sure Tyrion had mentioned that magic was involved in the process. But, in those stories, it wasn’t the magic that made things explode. She could vaguely remember the other ingredients Tyrion had described, though he had said he was only guessing. But there was mention of the yellow rocks from distant lands - the ones that the Valyrians had used to destroy the lands of the Old Empire of Ghis. The ones that currently sat on Willa’s table. The ones that made fire turn blue, so the stories went. It was a good start.

“I don’t think we need these,” Willa told her with finality, deftly tying the cloth around the rocks and giving it a disturbed glare, as if they had personally offended her. She shook her head, hair tinkling from the little bells braided down the right side. “You heard Birger and Ulf - they know the cliff faces better than anyone in Shadowedge. All those paths are crumbling like ours. It won’t be too hard to just give the rocks some assistance in tumbling down.” 

Dany nodded concedingly, glancing out of Willa’s open window where a chilled breeze was drifting in. Willa theorized that exposing her plants to a bit of frozen air amidst the heat of her home made them heartier. It seemed to work, but Dany was not as glad to feel the prick of chill at the back of her neck. When she was inside, she thought it was best to always feel warm. Grimacing, Dany placed a hand on her back. The baby seemed to be sitting awkwardly. And the low swooping in her stomach that nothing would work was not helping the feelings. The energy she had an hour ago was quickly ebbing away, and doubt was threatening to fill the space it had left behind. 

“We’ll cut off access from the sea up and down the cliffs. Destroy the paths on the cliff faces by loosening the rocks so that they make the paths impassable,” she had explained to the clan, reciting what she decided after Tormund asked for her help, “Much of Essos is flat, the people are not used to climbing when there is no path to follow. It will make them wander until the low beaches to the south where they could come up. Same going north - no path untouched until the northern bight begins.”

“What about fishing?” grunted one of the men from the back, “That’s how I feed my family.”

Tormund’s red beard twitched irritably. “Has the raider in you gotten that soft, Ulf? Climbed over the Wall but can’t climb a cliff face?” 

Ulf snarled at him, his grizzled features showing stark resemblance to the Old Tongue name he bore, before turning gruffly back to Dany. “I’m not goin’ along with no plan that cuts off the whole sea!”

_ Idiot, _ Dany thought of herself scoldingly. She hadn’t even considered the ocean fishing, she and Jon having not set much store by it since they lived on the banks of the Antler. Her plan was falling apart before she could even say more than a few sentences...

“Dany only said we’ll be destroying the cliff paths,” Willa interjected firmly, catching her friend’s eye and giving her a small nod. “The Stag’s Mouth can stay open. You’ll just need to pay attention to who’s on our shores before using it. And don’t go whacking your head on the entrance! I don’t need anyone stuck in my house because they were too stupid to remember to duck.”

Willa’s words seemed to pacify Ulf, who regarded the healer for a moment before crossing his arms and acknowledging her with a “mmhmph” that seemed to come more from his nose than his mouth. 

Leaving the Stag’s Mouth, a hidden, sloping cave path behind where the Antler dumped into the Shivering Sea, open was a good solution. It was virtually impossible to find for people that didn’t know what to look for, and the various dead end tunnels made navigation difficult for unfamiliar users. 

“Thank you,” Dany mouthed near-imperceptibly to Willa, reassured and glad for the support. Her friend nodded once more. 

She continued her explanation of her plan of destruction: make the attempts to come into their land as difficult and exhausting as possible. The idea had come from an unlikely source. Dany remembered one of the days that Jon had entertained the village children with a story instead of her or Old Dryn. Knowing full-well that twenty squirming children would not listen attentively to anything about geography, he had chosen a story from his Uncle Benjen to tell. One that Dany had never heard before.

Ranging beyond the Wall and deep into the Haunted Forest, Benjen found, on the fourth night, that he was being stalked by a lone direwolf. “He could feel those hungry eyes trained on his neck, even in the pitch dark,” Jon said to the wide-eyed audience.

“What did he do?” Myl had squeaked, quivering.

Jon leaned in and folded his hands together - a trick he had learned from watching Dany. “Well he would never have outrun it, but he couldn’t stay there either. So he got up, looked back at the direwolf, and...” Jon paused dramatically, “walked away.”

“Walked!”

“Walked at the same pace for almost three days without stopping. Just kept on looking back at the direwolf in the distance and never stopped. And you know what happened?”

“What?”

“The direwolf got tired and left and Benjen lived another day.”

That was the end goal. The slavers - poachers now - needed to get tired and leave. Perhaps their “tired” would involve something much worse than what Dany had experienced on first meeting Saphira at the Mammoth’s Head, but it was the same idea.  _ Let them work themselves to death _ , she thought grimly. It was much colder here than near Winterfell. 

She still wondered if her old self would have viewed this as a good plan: not to fight back in the traditional sense. It reminded her of something Tyrion would have suggested, and she was sure she would have scoffed at it as weak. But whether it was from a sense of self-preservation, the lingering fear of herself faced with leading a fight, or the gut-wrenching memory of the last time she flew dragonback near ships, Dany decided this was the best course of action.

The volunteers to destroy the cliff paths were instructed to divide themselves into two groups, one going north, led by Ulf, and one going south, led by Birger. Along the way, Dany instructed them to tell anyone they met the story of the dragons at Shadowedge and what had happened on the beach. To provide proof for the tale, Ulf and Birger were each given a sash of brightly-colored cloth, taken from the bodies of the dead Tyroshi, and two dragon scales, one from Saphira and one from Drogon. 

Dany had crept away to the Gods’ Clearing early in the morning to pull shed scales from the dragons’ nest under the heart tree. She was not disappointed in what she found, although she had learned something frustratingly new in the process. Not only did Saphira look to be made of frozen glass, touching her discarded scales gave her palm a nasty burn and made her old injury start to play up again. She was gingerly rubbing her it with her left hand, trying to diffuse the tight feelings in her muscles.

Consequently, Ulf and Birger were both instructed not to touch Saphira’s scale, but to leave it in the cloth Dany had given it to them in. They were both, however, fascinated by the warmth that radiated from Drogon’s scale, as if a small fire were merrily smoldering in the thin oval.

The two groups were currently still sitting around the fire pit, discussing how best to tackle the task. Dany had delegated them to making the final decision, ensuring that they knew best what to do. Tormund and Jon were with them. 

Tormund would be leading a small third group to the nearby villages to see if any news of foreigners had not reached Shadowedge and to begin the spread of word westward. Shadowedge was the only permanent settlement to crop up that close to the cliffs, but Tormund knew of multiple villages further in. He, too, had a sash and scales to show. Though offered places in the groups, Jon had decided to stay in Shadowedge. Through Willa’s open window, Dany could see him now. He sat on one of the logs, Rose happily perched on his knee, gesturing and speaking every once in awhile as if describing the best way to topple rocks. 

“What’s wrong with your hand?” Willa asked briskly, tearing Dany from her thoughts and snatching up her right hand.

“Ouch!” Dany seethed through her teeth, “Aren’t people like you supposed to be gentle?”

Willa ignored her, tugging Dany to sit in a chair and put her hand on the table for Willa to look at. “Hm,” she commented on her inspection, eyes raking over the angry burn before she began experimentally moving Dany’s fingers much to the woman’s chagrin. 

A knock sounded at Willa’s door, to which she called, “Come in!”

“Hi, Kolla,” Willa greeted, barely looking up from Dany’s hand, “Their stuff is in the corner - thanks for coming to grab it.” She jerked her head to the corner by her bed.

“No bother,” Kolla replied evenly, walking over to pick up what Willa had gestured towards. She had one of the kindest voices Dany had ever heard, low and melodic, like everything was right in the world. It reminded Dany both of honey dripping from warm bread and the way she felt in Jon’s embrace. Kolla matched her voice. Everything about her was soothing: her personality, her words, even the soft lines of her round face.

She stopped at the door, arms wrapped around a large woven basket, and looked back at Dany, who was still wincing. “By the way, Dany,” she said, “I’m sorry about Ulf’s words back at the meeting. You know how he gets: say one word about his fishing and he acts like you told him the world was ending! Your plan is a solid one. Protecting those dragons along with ourselves is the right thing to do and I have faith in it.”

“It’s in the past,” Dany told Kolla appreciatively, managing to force her grimace into a twisted smile as Willa flipped her hand over. “And I’m glad he’s leading the group north.”

Smiling, Kolla said her thanks and left Willa’s house with the basket. “She and Ulf couldn’t be more different,” Dany observed as Willa released her hand and got up, swiping multiple bowls, hanging pouches, and plant cuttings.

Willa gave an agreeable “mhmm” in response, as she had picked up the final animal-skin pouch between her teeth. “They balance each other. They’ll be good for the kids,” she said, dropping the pouch from her mouth as she laid out the rest of her collection and began pulling ingredients into her mortar. “I’m making you a poultice for that burn, not that you asked,” she added. Dany could smell the various fragrances, a floral, peppery scent when mixed together, as Willa began grinding everything up.

“Which kids?” she asked, ignoring the second comment.

The grinding stopped for a moment. “Oh, I forgot I didn’t tell you! Kolla and Ulf offered to take in Enda and Nerell. Kolla was stopping by to get their things.”

“O- _ oh _ ,” Dany remarked, stomach dropping as she plastered a smile onto her face again. “That’s - how nice of them.”

“The children seem pleased. You know how everyone feels about Kolla. Give me your hand.” She took Dany’s right hand and gingerly smeared the poultice onto the burn. Through the sting, Dany could feel how it soothed the blistered and angry skin, but didn’t say anything to Willa. 

It was probably for the best, she conceded, that Enda and Nerell stayed in the village and lived with Kolla rather than with her. With a small house, Rose, and the new baby only a few months away, the idealism that they could take on two more children sounded laughably bleak. And yet she could not help but feel like she and Jon should have spoken up sooner, should have offered an alternative solution.  _ It’s not like they’re gone forever,  _ the voice in the back of her head reasoned.  _ So why do I feel like this? _

“So what happened to your hand?”

Dany’s head snapped up as she was taken out of her thoughts. Willa had bound the burn in cloth. “Hmm? Oh, Saphira’s scale.”

“No, what happened  _ before? _ An ice burn doesn’t hurt your hand inside.”

Thoughtfully, Dany stretched the hand’s sore muscles, remembering how it looked when she pulled it out of the Narrow Sea. She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth before speaking. “I left it in the sea water when Jon and I took the boat from Dragonstone and it froze.”

“Jon fixed it up?”

Dany shook her head, smiling at the memory of the familiar wizened face. “A woman at Crackclaw Point did. Soraya. She was a woods witch - like you.”

Smirking, Willa replied, “I’m not much of a woods witch. Just a healer.”

“My hand and most of Shadowedge would say differently,” Dany told her, holding up Willa’s handiwork as her friend shrugged, “And your house certainly does too.” Her eyes skirted around the warm home, where Willa’s homegrown plants seemed to be taking over more than ever and animal-skin pouches hung from hand-fashioned hooks, were strung over beams, and dangled down the sides of the loft ladder. The overcrowded house reminded Dany of Soraya and her many pouches, pockets, and knickknacks. Absently, she touched the purple crystal around her neck. Four others were stowed under her bed at home, but Dany had never worn another. Often, she wondered where Soraya had come across such treasures - the same could be said for Willa.

“If you don’t like the sulfur rocks,” Dany asked, the thought sparking a question about Willa’s expression of disgust over the yellow rocks earlier, “Why do you have them? And where did you even find them?”

The healer tilted her head back and forth, as if weighing the options of what to say. Her hair tinkled again, and Dany caught sight of an eagle feather tied to the underside that she had not seen before. “I like...things,” Willa settled on replying, “You never know when stuff could be useful.”

“Like sulfur?”

Willa’s face fell and she did not answer, instead glancing out the open window which showed a large Northman making his way to her door. “Jon’s coming with Rose,” she said, more quietly than Dany expected, “You should take the extra poultice mix home with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fact-check: Wolves are probably less likely demonstrate the described hunting behaviors than a big cat, but just take Benjen's story as poetic license. Sulfur actually does burn blue. Dany (via the author) is mildly modeling some of her plan off of how the Russians treated Napoleon in 1812. Most of the "Old Tongue" names are based off of Old Norse.
> 
> Also, I missed writing Willa. I'm kind of in love with her as a character.


	50. Willa Before Winterfell

The week of preparation blended together like one long, drawn out day until, suddenly, the volunteers were taking their leave. They split up across the icy line between land and sea, becoming black shapes moving away from Shadowedge on the white landscape. Their figures laden with crude tools and satchels. After fiercely saying goodbye to Willa and clapping Jon on the shoulder, Tormund had left as well. 

An eerie hush fell over Shadowedge as their fellow clansmen were lost to sight amongst the snow and trees. 

“This will work,” Jon assured Dany as the other villagers unenthusiastically turned back to their daily lives. Dany watched solemnly as Kolla herded Enda and Nerell back to their house, her voice as even as ever though her expression said otherwise. Worry and anticipation were palpable in the air. Splitting up, ever since Dorand died, seemed like a bad idea. But surely it must be a worse idea to live in fear? Dany nodded in agreement to Jon’s words, but looked to Willa concernedly, only to find that she had disappeared from her side.  

Somehow, Dany knew that she was not meant to follow the tracks that undoubtedly led to Willa’s house. She had barely spoken to Willa since the day they discussed the sulfur and had no idea what happened, only that her friend had become evasive and distant. 

That night, Dany slept badly. The handmade feather bed she loved so much felt lumpy and hot. When she stuck a leg out from under the furs, it immediately felt frozen. She was itchy. Jon was too close and too far away. Her nightshirt bunched in the wrong way, but felt strange stretched out. And she had no idea where to put her arms. 

Dany did not know when she fell asleep, only that it was after multiple restless hours.

She dreamt that she was riding Drogon over the Dothraki Sea. Amongst the plains were towers of weathered stone draped in multicolored banners. They didn’t belong. Drogon’s chest rumbled as he opened his jaws and breathed out a huge jet of green flames. The towers crumbled away, their banners disintegrating. As the one nearest her fell, Dany saw Willa stumble alone out onto its balcony. She gripped the last bits of railing and fixed her golden stare on Dany. 

It was dark in the house when Dany opened her eyes. Not even a whisper of pre-dawn light crept through the din, but she could see the dragon egg glowing faintly on the mantle. It still had not changed since it began to glow without pulsing and Dany was beginning to wonder what else she could do for it, if anything.

She heard Jon’s soft snoring and felt his arm draped lazily across her stomach as he slept on peacefully, unaware of his wife’s turbulent dreams. The sound was comforting, but she felt lonely without him awake and knew that sleep was not coming back.  _ I don’t think I want it to, _ she thought, Willa’s golden gaze swimming in her mind as if it was accusing her.

Slipping deftly from Jon’s arm, careful to gently rest it on her bunched up furs, Dany left the bed and quietly walked to look in on Rose. Ghost raised his head as Dany came in. 

Her daughter was as fast asleep as Jon, hands raised above her head as if in celebration and a look of contentment across her small face. Dany brushed a stray curl from Rose’s cheek. The toddler wrinkled her nose before nestling further into her bed. 

“I love you, Rosie,” Dany whispered as she backed out of her daughter’s bedroom.

Her body seemed to steer itself without warning. Before she registered what she was doing, Dany had slipped into her warm clothes and boots, thrown the hood to cover her loose hair, and was headed for the door. A low whine sounded from behind her. 

Ghost’s red eyes had never looked sadder. He whined again when Dany turned around. Initially, Dany had planned to tell him to go back to Rose, but the whine and the faint wagging tail convinced her otherwise. Dany opened the door quietly and gestured the direwolf out.

Happily, Ghost trotted outside into the frosted air and Dany followed behind him. It would be nice to have some company for the walk.

~

The Haunted Forest looked different in the dark. Trees seemed to loom in tall domes, and the ice and snow looked almost spectre-like in the moonlight. Dany did not often go outside alone after dark, except to feed Embar and relieve herself. If she were being honest (seeing as no one could read her thoughts), she was afraid of the dark woods.

Almost every free folk had told her that the Haunted Forest was a brighter place now that the White Walkers had gone, but all this did was make Dany glad she only had come to the North later. Yet, as she walked on the northern path from her home’s clearing, which was covered with a fresh flurry of snow, it felt safer than before. 

It could have been because she was in the company of Ghost, who bounded through snow drifts with ease, crossing back and forth over the path. But Dany felt it was more so because she knew what the biggest thing in the forest was now. She wasn’t afraid of dragons, so what else did she need to be afraid of?

Ghost came up beside Dany, leaning his weight into her as she walked up the steep incline that led into the Gods’ Clearing. The hulking black form of Drogon was nestled beneath the center heart tree, darker than the shadows, but Dany did not see any of the other three dragons as she made her way to him.  _ Early hunting? _ she wondered. 

“Go off for a while,” she murmured to Ghost, who shrunk back as Drogon skated his head over the snow to see who the visitors were. Ghost whined, but listened and slunk off back into the forest, no doubt in search of a sleeping meal. 

Drogon’s eyes blinked lazily as Dany approached him. She heard his rumbling purr of greeting and reached out to brush her hand over his nose. His scales were warm like the sun on her skin on the Dothraki Sea, so different from when she had found him at the Mammoth’s Head. The hatching of his children had allowed him to rest and warm up again. It also could not have been bad for him that Saphira had stopped making their environment virtually unlivable for anyone not made of ice.  _ What you’ve done for love _ , she marveled, thinking of their similar journeys.

“They’ve gone off to help you,” she told her child in Valyrian, stopping near his cheek so that they could look at each other properly. “People from our clan. We’re destroying the paths up the cliffs. And telling the rest of the free folk what happened on the beach. How you protected us, that you’re here now, that we need to protect you.”

She settled down on the ground at the crook of Drogon’s neck, still running her hand over his scales as she leaned against him. “This is our home now,” she told the dragon, “Two Southerners who have come as far North as they could. Do you miss it?”

Though it may not have been in response to her question, a low groan rumbled in Drogon’s throat. Dany noticed his eyes had closed contentedly again. “I miss the people,” Dany admitted, the faces of lost friends swimming in her thoughts. She recited them, “Jorah. Rakharo. Irri. Ser Barristan. Drogo - although I don’t think he’d take kindly to Jon. Your brothers. Missandei...but none of them are there now. Except for Grey Worm, maybe. But who’s to say where he led everyone after I left? 

“At least I didn’t lead them to their deaths as well,” she said, shuffling her feet in the crunchy snow, “I can’t help but feel like that’s what I’m going to do to our family now.” She looked at him, frowning. “Willa isn’t speaking to me. I had a dream about us betraying her and it still feels real, like I’ve made a horrible mistake.”

_ I can’t help but doubt myself. _

She remembered the night that she had left Dragonstone with Jon, when the seeds of doubt were sown into her thoughts that her leadership had led to nothing - she’d been making the wrong choice. It was true then, that’s why she agreed to leave. And if it was true then, how was she to know if this time would be any different? 

Multiple times over the past week, Dany had been asked why the dragons could not simply leave. Privately, she thoroughly believed that Drogon and Saphira would not leave this part of the forest until their final dragonlet had hatched.  _ They know something _ , she thought instinctively, remembering her thoughts on the egg when she awoke,  _ there’s something else. _ But she gave a more neutral answer when asked - one she thought Tyrion would use.

“Whether or not they stay, this is where they were last seen. Do you think it will make a difference if the dragons are actually here or not?” Rallying people to protect the dragons, and themselves, from invaders was the only solution she had. 

But would her plan have unforeseen consequences, like what seemed to be happening with Willa? It could be months before any Essosi showed up on their shores having heard the story of dragons. If they never came, she had successfully convinced her people to cut off a significant swath of access to their eastern shores for no reason. In the meantime, she had potentially destroyed the secrecy that had seemingly protected ice dragons for thousands of years, and opened up the remaining free folk to a spark of dissent. The people of Shadowedge may want to protect the dragons ( _ However grudgingly _ , Dany thought as she remembered their faces at the meeting), but if the rest of Westeros was any indication, not everyone would agree. 

How strong were the old bonds of unity among the free folk when faced with dragons? Would others embrace them like Willa, Tormund, and Kolla and be willing to fight for them? Would they remain indifferent like Birger and Ulf, who didn’t care what was in the sky or the forest as long as he could fish, but went along with the plan because it was to protect dragons  _ and _ free folk? Or would they be like Inniq, only wanting to save themselves and stirring trouble in the process? The scarred villager had not joined any of the volunteers, but Dany had seen him skulk off towards the forest to hunt soon after everyone left.

Dany’s thoughts fell into a stalemated silence, unable to answer any of the questions she was asking. Leaning her head back, she tried to allow herself to rest against Drogon without thinking.  _ He must be asleep _ , she thought, noting that his breathing was low and even. It was warm and comfortable to be nestled into his side, and Dany slowly lost herself in the stillness of the waning darkness. The world had faded from black to soft gray now, as if dawn were just beginning to peek its eyes open and decide whether or not to wake up. As of yet, nothing had stirred. There was no sign of Ghost, nor Saphira, Nutmeg, and Lavender. No little critters shifted underneath the snow, and the wind was too faint to encourage the trees to dance.

Absently, she ran her hands over her growing stomach, taking comfort in being in the presence of two of her children. It was so quiet that Dany thought she could have heard her baby’s first kick of the day if it had not been for Drogon choosing that minute to sigh deeply and shift in his sleep, curling his long tail around to rest the tip by where Dany sat against him. Beginning to feel sluggish from the warmth that emanated from Drogon, Dany closed her eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep?” said a dull voice.

Dany had drifted off just enough to miss hearing the crunching footsteps of someone else coming into the Gods’ Clearing, but the words wrenched her back from the edge of sleep into the present. For a fleeting moment, she thought that Drogon had spoken to her and opened her eyes in shock.

Willa was standing in front of her. 

“What are you doing here?” Dany asked, blinking to adjust her eyes to the predawn light now layered over the clearing. Even in the dimness, Dany could see that Willa’s eyes were swollen. When she spoke again, her voice rasped.

“I asked you first.”

“I felt uncomfortable in bed and restless, so I took a walk,” she explained promptly, “I’ve been here since before first light. Why are you here?”

Willa ignored Dany and stepped over Drogon’s tail to kneel down next to her. “Are you all right?” she asked, immediately reaching to check Dany’s head for signs of fever.

“No - yes - no, I mean, I’m fine. It was just a bad night.”

“Ah,” Willa said, dropping her hand and leaning back on her legs. She did not say anything else, instead looking passively at the sleeping form of Drogon and then fiddling with the fur of her coat.

Dany could not help but think about how strange it was to be in this situation. Nestled in the side of her sleeping dragon in the frozen Haunted Forest before morning with her best friend casually sitting next to her as if this was an everyday occurrence that they found each other before dawn in the dragons’ den whilst in the midst of a silent falling out of some sort. 

From the depths of her bewildered thoughts, Dany realized that it had never truly struck her, until this very moment, how perfectly at ease Willa was with dragons.

Some people tried to act casually around them. Jon was fairly good at it, seeing as he had bonded with Rhaegal, but Dany knew that her husband would never be completely relaxed in close proximity to any dragon. Others took not reacting to dragons as a sign of strength, and it was something her allies and armies had always displayed and her enemies had tried to, but their eyes betrayed them. 

With Willa, though, there was no hint of fear or apprehension. She was not touching Drogon, but it simply seemed to be because she was comfortable where she was sitting.

Unlike Willa’s ease around dragons, their silence had begun to stretch to an uncomfortable length. It felt different than the normal Willa silence that came with a friend who just wasn’t very talkative. Dany could feel the tension of whatever was making Willa act so differently since the day of the clan meeting and tried to lessen it by breaking the stillness. “You said you couldn’t sleep?”

Willa looked up and nodded once. “The bed’s too empty,” she said shortly, “It’s cold. I hated that part.”

“From before Tormund?”

Again, she nodded. “It’s the only time I’ve ever slept alone.” She paused, looking past Dany at Drogon slumbering peacefully, as if jealous that the dragon could sleep happily whether or not his mate was there. Her golden eyes flashed back to Dany before dropping to her hands. “I’ve been avoiding you,” she admitted quietly to her hands. Shifting, Willa slumped her legs out from under her into a more settled position.

Dany leaned forward, reaching out to touch her friend’s knee. “I’m sorry,” she told Willa, “For whatever I did. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It wasn’t you,” Willa said, “Not really. Just what you said. What I haven’t said.”

She tugged at the end of her braid, making the bells tinkle faintly, and smiled almost pitifully before speaking again. “I never...had my own bed before coming to Shadowedge, not even my own sleeping mat - it was too much to carry when we moved on,” she told Dany. Her eyes seemed to be focused on Dany’s knee, or her stomach, or somewhere just beyond. “When we made camp, we all slept together around the fire, all twenty-three of us. We would always be up late telling stories and swapping trinkets to wear in our hair or on our clothes. They always had some sort of meaning according to the giver. ‘Your hair is brown and this shell is brown.’ ‘This feather is pretty like you are.’” She brushed her hand through her hair, revealing the eagle feather and smiling at the memory. “And I always slept in between my sisters because Tove hated Hazel kicking in her sleep - we called her Hare until her second nameday - and my brother slept across our heads. My father always took first watch. I remember that I had to look and see if he was sitting up before allowing myself to sleep. I don’t ever remember being cold at night even though we only pitched a tent if it snowed. 

“The people who knew my tribe said that we wandered more than anyone else in the north. My father didn’t believe in fighting, so we never stayed anywhere long enough to get into an argument, only long enough to trade and exchange news...and heal the sick. We were good at that. Most of us had average healing skills, but once in a while there was a real woods witch in the tribe. With the superb healing and the dreaming and the innate skill. I’ve been told my mother was one...and I was one too...I guess. I had dreams of the future - usually where we should head next or avoid - and the people I healed always seemed to get better faster. Even from the worst of sickness, they recovered. I just knew how to help. Until the disappearances started.”

At this, she stopped. Dany stared unabashedly. Willa had never talked about her past, although Dany knew that she had been with Mance Rayder, at Hardhome, and finally in the crypts at Winterfell...and that her tribe had called her Little Bear. 

She was unsure if she wanted the story to continue. After all, she knew the end. 

Nonetheless, Willa began to speak again, but her smile had shifted. Her voice sounded cold and emotionless. “We’d never been scared of the woods before, scared of sleeping at night or foraging on our own. By the time we joined Mance as healers, there were eighteen of us left. Tove was one of the ones who disappeared, only the moon before. When we got to Hardhome, there were sixteen. Arrows to the back when we ran from the ambush. My brother was one of them. I wanted to stop to help him, but he shouted to stay with Hazel. I remember him trying to crawl... 

“Then there were three of us. My father pushed our boat away from the shore at Hardhome. He made sure we all got on, tore the pouch from his neck and said to look out for Hazel, and then he turned around and ran to help another boat.”

Dany stopped herself from opening her mouth, but Willa seemed to already know the question she was going to ask. “The sulfur,” she said, “that I showed you the other day. I never found out what it meant to him. I...try not to remember it too much, but it was a gift.

“After Hardhome, we joined up with the survivors and ended up at Winterfell. We shared a sleeping mat still. Then you came with Jon, Saga chose to fight, and Hazel and I went to the crypts. And when the dead rose,” she sucked in a breath, suddenly speaking thickly and very fast, “I - I -” She broke off, rocking and holding herself close, eyes seeing more than Dany and Drogon. 

“I couldn’t look out for her, Dany, there were just too many of them,” she finally said in a hoarse whisper. “And after Hazel died, they just  _ kept _ dying. My family was gone, my home was gone, and my people just kept dying. All I had left of them was a bunch of trinkets in my hair. When I met you, I was going to Shadowedge because I had only dreamt of the sea since Hazel died and foolishly thought someone from my tribe could be there. That I wasn’t alone. Nobody was, of course, I knew it was foolish. So I planned to visit you once as promised and then disappear into the woods like Tove had. There was no one left to remember - ”

Unable to bear it anymore, unwilling to hear the rest, Dany lurched forward and held Willa in a desperate hug. Dany could feel hot tears slide over her hands as she brought them to Willa’s cheeks and pressed their foreheads together.

“ _ I _ would remember you,” Dany told her fiercely.

Taking in a shuddering breath, Willa nodded in Dany’s hands. “I know now,” she said, blinking several times to stop the tears. She searched Dany’s face and suddenly broke into a watery smile. “The minute you walked into my tent unannounced, told me you found a place to build a house, and handed me a huge bird to pluck for your damn mattress, I think I knew then.”

Willa took Dany’s hands from her face and held them between their laps, brushing up against Dany’s stomach. “Things  _ are _ better now,” Willa insisted. “I just...after seeing the sulfur and the woods witch comment and Tormund leaving and everything that’s happened, I just really needed to tell you. Tell someone.” 

“I understand,” Dany said, “It can make you freer when you let everything out to someone - I learned that with Jon when we left Dragonstone.” Willa nodded in agreement, Hazel’s eagle feather slipping into the dark brown locks and out of view. 

“I hate the past,” she said darkly, “but I’m afraid to let it go.”

“You don’t have to,” Dany replied.

For a few moments, the women simply knelt together, encircled by a still sleeping Drogon, as the sun peeked between the trees into the clearing. Then, the baby kicked again and Willa’s hand jerked. Dany, who had closed her eyes to enjoy the feeling of the light, could hear Willa smile. She felt her friend shift, and was soon being pulled upwards to stand.

“Come on,” Willa said, her voice stronger than before, “Let’s give him some peace and quiet and get to your house before Jon starts panicking.”

Dany nodded, looping her arm through Willa’s, unwilling to let go just yet. As they stepped over Drogon’s tail and began their way out of the clearing, Dany glanced back at her child. His nostrils flared in his sleep and she smiled, grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just. kept. growing. 
> 
> Anyways, I've known Willa's backstory basically since finishing the second chapter with her in it (in the original outline, I was planning on killing her after Rose was born and changed my mind because she's so fun to write...this story was initially much, much darker). It took so long to write this one, I struggled a lot with feeling that I'd done right by Willa in the telling of her story.
> 
> As always, let me know what you think and I'll be back soon!


	51. Rained In

Frequent nighttime flurries of snow turned to freezing rain and chilled mist hanging low over the trees of the Haunted Forest and skulking through the winding patchwork of Shadowedge houses. The sodden days were full of a menagerie of complaints about ringing out furs and frozen ankles from having to wade through the slush. It was a patterned existence, with the rain coming in waves and then trading off for the eerie mist - often multiple times in the same day.

Many of the villagers had gained horrible coughs and shivers from being wet and cold every day, which meant that Willa had her hands full. Nobody was threatening to die, but they did not seem to be getting rapidly better either. To stop the spread of sickness and keep it from becoming worse, Willa had quarantined a number of people in their homes. This, she said, was less for the health of others and more to keep the sick ones out of the rain until they had healed.

“Nobody around here ever stops and takes a rest unless I tie them to a bed and knock them out with a hammer,” she often bemoaned.

Along the same vein, although without bed-tying and hammers, Willa was determined to not have any sickness outside of Shadowedge. Crassly remarking what happened the last time Dany was sick while pregnant, she had ordered Dany, Jon, and Rose not to come into the village at all. 

“I’ll send word if there’s any news,” Willa promised earnestly to a sour-faced Dany.

Though she listened and really did agree with Willa’s decision, Dany had become frustratingly restless. Visiting Drogon would have ended in the same icy, flooded plight that walking to Shadowedge did, so Dany had not left the clearing on the banks of the Antler in nearly two weeks. With horrible feelings of contempt, she watched Jon trudge out of the clearing with his knife and bow whenever the rain let up to check on his traps and snag the occasional fowl. She did not envy the idea of being out in the rain trying to feed her family, only the freedom to leave the clearing. 

_ I  _ could _ take a walk, _ Dany reasoned, although it was ludicrous. Even the journey to the barn to see Embar each day, Rose in tow, was arduous in the slush and rain.

Instead, she tried to stay busy at home, working mainly on making tack for Embar with animal hides, just as she had learned so many years ago among the Dothraki. She stubbornly made the painstaking walk out to the barn each day, and was finishing up on one part of Embar’s bridle on a particularly rainy day. It was evening, and the drops had not stopped clattering on the barn roof since she and Rose first set out in the drizzle. In fact, Dany believed they were much more than a drizzle now. 

Rose sat in a corner of the barn, playing with a toy horse that Jon had recently made for her, happily making it walk (or hop straight into the air and tromp right down) as she said, “Neigh! Neigh! Neigh!” with each step. 

_ Time to head back _ , Dany thought as she noticed her daughter’s cheeks flushed with the cold. She stood up from her work, made sure that Embar had enough to eat and drink and gave her horse a loving pat on his neck. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she promised softly, looking into the stallion’s wise brown eyes. “Maybe at some point we can actually go for a ride.” Embar’s only response was a quiet, understanding nicker. 

Dany crossed over to the corner where Rose was and smiled as the toddler stopped playing to look up at her mother. “Come up, Rosie,” Dany said, “Time to get in the house.” Carefully, Dany leaned down and picked up Rose, who had stretched out her arms. 

From the barn door, Dany could see that the rain was indeed heavier than before. For a moment, she weighed the consequences of trying to wait it out more and realized glumly that it had not really stopped all day. The last thing Dany wanted was to chance walking through heavy rain in complete darkness, even if it was just across the clearing. She balanced Rose around her hip and reached up to pull her hood on before doing the same for her daughter.  _ Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks _ , Dany thought unconvincingly. 

Rose, who abhorred rain and acted as if the water touching her was the same as being branded over and over, was already fussing in her mother’s arms at the realization of what was happening. “No!” she wailed, struggling. The wind was already showering the pair with spray.

“We have to walk through the rain to get home,” Dany explained soothingly, “And it’ll be warm and comfortable inside. Mama might even let you snuggle in bed with her after supper while we wait for Papa and Ghost to come home.” Jon and Ghost had been out since the early morning. They usually returned around late afternoon, but Dany imagined that the worsening weather was continually holding them up.

“MM!” Rose objected, clearly not convinced. 

Sighing, Dany shook her head, knowing she had no choice. “I’m sorry,” she said before plunging out the door.

It was much worse than it looked. As soon as she stepped into the rain, Dany gasped from the frozen chill that instantly set deep in her bones, helped along by the wind that drove raindrops past her shield of hair and hood to drip down her neck. It felt as though the grip of winter had reached directly inside of her and taken its tightest hold. 

As if the gods believed it to be a hilarious joke, the sky seemed to open up and release a deluge of frozen water that stung as it hit Dany’s face. Rose’s frantic actions made it difficult to keep moving. She had buried her face into her mother’s neck, gripping Dany’s hood with little fists and kicking her booted feet angrily.

“R-rose, p-please!” Dany managed out of her tight throat, constricted with cold. It may have been difficult to walk with a passive Rose, but it was a thousand times worse with a sobbing one.

“NO!” Rose continued to shout indiscriminately, tantrum building as she continued kicking. She nailed Dany in the back with surprising force just as they had reached the house’s door, Dany wrenching it open.

“Ow!” Dany hissed loudly, slamming the door shut behind them, “Rose, that hurt!”

Nothing was dissuading the distraught toddler, and after fighting to change Rose into dry clothes, changing herself into a dry underdress, and seating her daughter for supper, Dany was deafened and feeling very frayed. What could have been minutes had taken almost an hour.

She was cold, tired, and frankly on her last nerve.  _ Curse the rain. Curse the rain and the cold and anything wet and horrible _ . Rose was fussing, not crying anymore, but barely eating and carrying on between mouthfuls until she finally flailed and knocked the utensil from Dany’s hand. “Rose!” she snapped, exasperated, “Now look wh- ” Dany bit her tongue. The nasty retort tip of it would do no good with a toddler, much less her daughter who, at the sight of the spoon falling to the ground, had burst into tears again. Instead she stood, giving up on supper for the night, and with an again-wailing child on her hip, she stalked over to Rose’s room and deposited her on the bed. 

Normally, Dany would stay with Rose until she fell asleep. Jon often came, too. They would tell her a story first and then Dany would wind the soft brown curls around her slender fingers and stroke Rose’s eyelashes to lull her to sleep while Jon hummed a song from his homeland. She loved when her husband hummed those songs. It was the sound of home, and she usually fell asleep as well.

But tonight all she heard was crying. She could not stand any more crying. It was as if someone was clattering a horrible bell between her ears. 

Over and over and over and over.

And over and over.

And  _ over _ . 

She left. Even from her own bed, Dany could hear the thumping of the small bed in the other room as Rose’s tantrum gained even more vigor. 

Wrenching her underdress off and tossing it, Dany sunk back on her bed, mutinously naked, and pulled a fur from Jon’s side over her, staring at the ceiling for a long time. Her back ached where Rose had kicked her, and she could feel the baby kicking like a reminder that in a few months, there would be more. What would happen when there were two of them on days like these?  _ Can I really do this? _ Dany rubbed her hands over her stomach fretfully; she was no longer hungry.

There was no sobbing coming from the other room any longer. Rose, Dany thought, must have cried herself to sleep. She had done so a few times before, when she had been under the weather or was in a particularly bad mood...like today. But it had never been when it was just the two of them. Dany closed her eyes, willing this awful day to end.

~

Familiarly rough, cold fingers were tracing up and down her spine. Normally, she would have flinched away from the touch of something that cold, but instead she pressed into it with a sigh and heard Jon’s “hmm” of recognition that she was awake. Dany felt Jon splay his palm across her back, rubbing out the tight muscles there as her whole body relaxed, the tension of the day melting away. Even in sleep, she must have been holding herself stiff.

Wordlessly, he snaked his arms around and pulled her closer against him. She melted into his hold, realizing how much she had missed him. The smell of cold earth and pine wreathed around her as his hands continued exploring, tracing her collarbone and down the center of her chest. Despite having definitely been drenched in the rain, Jon was still warm.

“Mm,” she murmured languidly, taking Jon’s hand and guiding in down from where it was draped over her chest. She could hear his chuckle as he listened to her cue and ranged over the gentle swell of her stomach, caressing his finger pads over skin that tingled as he passed over.

He ventured even lower, and Dany parted her legs invitingly. Heat bloomed within her, driven by a sudden need for his touch and extinguishing any latent cold as his hand slipped in between her legs and ghosted back and forth over her center. Pleasurable shivers quickly began rolling over Dany in waves. She felt Jon pressing delicate kisses to her neck and back as he asked for her legs to spread more, which she did obligingly. Deftly, he entered her with two fingers, beginning to slowly pump in and out as her body arched against him. “ _ Oh _ ,” she breathed as he beckoned her.

At this, Dany felt Jon smile against her neck where he was still peppering kisses. He began to thrust his fingers with more purpose, eliciting small sounds of whispered pleasure from his wife. Dany fisted the bed as he pressed his thumb to her clit and circled it lazily until her body was  so quickly trembling just on the edge of release. 

Jon drove his fingers into her once more and Dany fell apart in his arms. He held her as she came around him, pressing his lips just below her jaw. When he went to move, Dany covered his hand with hers.

“I like you here,” she said quietly.

For what could have been many nights, or perhaps a few minutes, they lay together, simply enjoying the feel of each other. Dany had begun to think that nothing could be more perfect than these small moments when she felt Jon begin to move ever so slightly inside her again. Rolling her eyes, although smiling, she turned over to face him and he slipped out of her, moving his arm away.

“You just couldn’t stay still,” she teased.

In the semidarkness, she saw him grinning, his hand still close to his mouth. His voice came out with the note of a laugh. “Aye, I guess not,” he said impishly, kissing her nose and then her lips. Not willing to relinquish him yet, Dany slid her arm around Jon and threaded her fingers in his hair. Her tongue slid across his lips and she tasted the winter rain still on him. And herself.  _ Insatiable _ , she chided lovingly in her mind, deepening the kiss until they both needed to come up for air. 

Breathless, they broke apart, still grinning at each other. “Gods, I’ve missed you,” Jon said, his hand coming up to play with an errant silver curl.

“Mm, I’ve missed you too,  _ mahrazhkem _ ,” Dany replied, blinking lazily and enjoying the tingling feeling that came with someone playing with her hair. “And I needed this.”

“I thought you might,” he said. “You went to bed early tonight?”

Dany sighed, remembering the disastrous evening that had led to her falling asleep before Jon arrived home. “The day...needed to end.”

Lit by the dim flicker of the fire Jon had seemingly restocked, Dany saw him nod understandingly. “She’s fast asleep,” he told her, “Pantless - I’d like to hear that story at some point - but asleep. I pulled a cover over her.” Dany frowned at the word “pantsless,” thinking of how hard Rose must have been kicking at the air to manage that.

As if he could read her mind, seconds later Jon said, “Nobody’s the perfect parent, Dany. There are always going to be bad days, just like there’s always good days.”

“But…” Dany started, “how do I know that I’m not...not  _ ruining  _ her or something? And what about when there’s two of them? I mean, Jon, I had to leave the room at the end. I felt like I was going to explode.” 

“Would it have made any difference if you’d stayed?”

“Honestly, it probably would have made it worse.”

“Then maybe you made the right decision this time,” Jon said. He wound her hair around his finger and let it fall, bouncing, to her cheek before doing it again. “We learn as we go along. You’re still a wonderful mother. You’ll see. Tomorrow it will be better. And perhaps a bit drier.”

Dany looked up, straining to listen for the raindrops that had been pounding the roof earlier. “The rain stopped?”

“It was slowing down by the time I came in,” he said, “Sorry if I worried you coming home so late. I was trying not to walk home blind, we can’t all be Willa with her innate ability to not run into trees.”

Shrugging, she replied, “I don’t know, you’re more apt at geography than anyone else. Either way, I wasn’t too worried. I figured you’d taken shelter somewhere. No luck with the traps?”

“I caught  _ something _ ,” Jon said, “I think it was a snow fox.”

“Think?”

“The bones were stripped clean when I got there - I brought them home - and I never found the head. There’s definitely a shadowcat around. I saw claw marks on a couple trees too. But everything else seems to be staying in its dens. Although I did see Drogon, for a moment, flying off towards the mountains.”

“That must mean Saphira’s come back,” Dany said, thinking about the last time she had seen Drogon in the clearing with Willa a couple days before the rain started. “Have you noticed they never leave to hunt at the same time?”

Jon nodded, looking pensive. “Why do you think that is?” he wondered.

Looking behind her, Dany glimpsed the egg glowing mysteriously as always above the mantle. “I have my suspicions,” she said. “Is there anything you  _ didn’t _ see out hunting?”

“ _ Actually _ ,” Jon replied, “I saw Inniq, too, right around when I spotted Drogon. Angry as ever. He hadn’t caught anything either, was blaming the dragons, though.”

“Did you tell him about the shadowcat?”

“Aye, but if you think he listened, you’ve met the wrong Inniq.” Jon furrowed his eyebrows and his voice grew serious, “I don’t trust him, Dany. He’s looking for any excuse to make people think that having the dragons here is the wrong choice. I ran into Kolla out hunting a few days ago and she said he’s been blaming the sickness on them too, saying they spread disease. He hasn’t said anything about you yet, but I imagine he’s thinking about it. You saw what he was like at the meeting. No one’s listening to him now - even Kolla’s fed up, saying he’s been a bad influence on Nerell - but most of them owe their children’s lives to Drogon and Saphira. When people hear him who don’t…”

“He’s all hot air, Jon,” Dany replied dismissively.

Jon snorted. “I’m pretty sure the scars on his face would argue with you about that. And you haven’t ever been around him that much since he came to live here.” 

“So? I don’t  _ want _ to be around him that much.”

“Well  _ I  _ don’t want to either, but I have. Listen, can you just humor me and be at least slightly wary?”

Though she was sure he was being over-protective, Dany nodded and kissed Jon for added benefit. Unwilling to let her move away again, Jon wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her closer, saying no more about dragons and Inniq.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shadowcats, dragons, Inniq - oh my! Also Rose and I feel the same way about rain, especially freezing rain. The weather around here has suddenly plunged to "very cold" and I heard a fun quip today that "the temperature's gone from 90 to 40 like it's seen a police officer on the highway."
> 
> 1000 kudos??? You guys are incredible! As always, let me know what you think and hopefully the next break between chapters is a little shorter as my school schedule is slowing down a bit.


	52. Cracks

Jon did not go out for the next few days. He stayed in the clearing with Dany and Rose, whose relationship, as predicted, had quickly mended the morning after their disastrous evening in the rain. It had taken Rose getting out of bed and toddling over to the still-sleeping Dany the next morning. She laid her little hand on Dany’s cheek and said, “Mama?” and all was forgiven as soon as her mother opened her eyes.

The weather had shifted to a dry freeze, where the very vapors in the air seemed to have stopped in place. There was no wind. It almost looked as if time had frozen along with everything else. Yet the people still moved and worked while the rest of the world stayed still. The fence surrounding Embar’s small paddock had frozen so deeply that several posts cracked, so Jon and Dany were working quickly to mend those. 

“What about the shadowcat?” Dany asked Jon as she handed him the reddish rock he used for smoothing the sharp parts of wood. “I mean, it’s not going to keep from attacking Embar just because of a few fence posts.”

They were standing in the lean-to, just outside of which Dany had built a fire to keep the family warm as they worked. It was just after midday and the absence of forest sounds had made Dany particularly wary. Ghost was slumped beside the fire, barely making an impression on the frozen ground, but his relaxed presence did little to calm Dany’s nerves, which seemed to grow deeper as their baby did, similar to the last time she was pregnant. 

She had seen a shadowcat before, she’d been within only a few lengths of one, but the knowledge of such a terrific predator stalking the woods near their house made the hairs on her neck stand on end. Briefly, she glanced at Rose playing with her horse and wolf toys in the back corner of the lean-to. She was warmly nested in a huge snow bear fur that Tormund had given Jon not long after they had returned from the Mammoth’s Head (“You think I want to sleep under something that nearly ripped my arm off?” he’d bellowed to Jon as Willa had stitched four large gashes in his arm closed). Tormund has kept the arm, scarred but completely usable, and Dany thought the fur came in rather handy.

Jon stopped sanding for a moment and looked at her sympathetically. “I  _ doubt _ it will come close to the clearing,” he told her. “And Ghost would warn us if it did - and probably scare it off with his rukus. They won’t attack once spotted. Remember, they’re curious and stealthy, not vicious.” 

“Just very effective,” Dany sniffed. Wrinkling her nose with annoyance, Dany considered that many shadowcats had probably passed through these woods in the two years they’d lived here. And yet it was a lot more comforting not to know they were there.

Suddenly, she jumped.

Something was scraping - no, sliding? - into the clearing, straight across the ice.

“Put your foot out!”

“But I can’t make a dent in the ice!”

“Just do it before you crash into a tree with your  _ head _ !”

A blur of blonde hair swept past the lean-to, making Ghost scramble to his feet with surprise and promptly slip and fall. Quickly following it was a large blur of dark hair also whizzing past on the expanse of pure ice.

THUD!

With a muffled “oomf” and the sound of many layers hitting one of the posts that held up where Dany and Jon hung furs to air out on nice days. Willa laid her head back on the ice, looking dazed by the ordeal. 

Enda, meanwhile, had stuck her leg out as Willa said and had halted herself against one of the few trees in the clearing. Dropping his sanding rock, Jon balanced his way over to Enda, making forceful holes in the ice as he went. His run looked awkward, like a mocking waddle of a particularly wide goose. “Are you all right?” he asked worriedly. 

“I think so,” Enda said, rubbing her foot. “We both slipped at that little slope right before the path leads into the clearing. It’s so frozen, I couldn’t make a hole to step in!”

Willa, who was still laying flat on the ice, raised a hand in the air to illustrate her statement. “And then I tried to grab her, and slipped and we just kept going. Have you ever noticed that your home is very downhill from Shadowedge?”

“Now we have,” Jon said, a hint of amusement just detectable in his voice as he helped Enda to her feet. She made holes in the ice with her heels to find her balance. Once she was up, Jon made his way over Willa. 

She took his hand and was hauled into a standing position. “Thanks.” 

Following Jon back to the lean-to, and making sure to push their feet through the ice or step into the already made holes as they went, Enda and Willa had no more mishaps.

“I trust you didn’t slide over here for the fun of it?” Dany quipped, smirking. 

“Ha  _ ha _ ,” Willa replied, mockingly narrowing her eyes. “But you’re right. I came to tell you that you’re no longer banned from Shadowedge. Everyone’s healed, no deaths. Also, Dany, I need to check up on you. And I brought Enda along so she could see how it’s done if that’s all right.”

“Willa is teaching me about healing people and growing plants and things,” Enda added proudly.

“And the proper way to slide on ice?” 

Dany tried and failed to stifle her laugh at Jon’s words.

“Just for that,” Willa huffed, “I’m not warming up my hands before examining you.”

~

Enda watched Willa with rapt attention as she checked over Dany. From Willa’s grunts and pained look of concentration, Dany assumed that nothing was amiss. Willa had pressed her ear close to Dany’s belly, closing her eyes to listen, and ran one hand around to Dany’s lower back. 

She flinched as it brushed up against the bruised area around her spine. “Hmm?” Willa looked up at Dany and tapped the bruise again, testing. 

“Yes,” Dany said exasperatedly, “You can stop now.”

“What happened?” Willa asked, peering around Dany’s back. “That’s quite purple.”

“Rose. We - er - didn’t have the best of days recently.”

“I can see that.” Willa motioned for Dany to drop her shirt. “Everything else seems fine. You’ve got a quiet baby, though.”

Dany raised an eyebrow. “More active than last time,  _ I _ think. I started feeling the kicking earlier than with Rose.”

The healer nodded. “Many mothers feel their second baby earlier than their first. But that’s not what I meant by quieter.” She did not offer any more on the cryptic subject, but did Dany not press her. Ever since Willa had told her about her past and her abilities as a woods witch - as more than a healer, whether or not she called herself that - Dany found that pieces of her friend that had seemed strange suddenly had an answer: why she listened to ailments and babies instead of simply examining, why people always seemed healthier in Shadowedge than those who came to visit, and why people always seemed to heal as well as possible in Shadowedge even with the worst of sickness or injury. It wasn’t always perfect - Tormund still had snow bear scars - but she kept it from being catastrophic. So there was now a need to question less and observe more. And for some, to learn.

Enda, who had been silent up until this point, leaned around Willa’s arm. “What now?” she asked eagerly.

Gold eyes flicked from Dany to the girl peering around her arm. “Now we wait until the next time,” Willa said.

“That’s it?”

Dany laughed, both at Willa’s perplexed expression and Enda’s seeming outrage that the exam of her stomach had not been a more exciting time. “Babies are a lot of waiting,” she told the girl, “especially now when you’re not sick every morning or ready to give birth. There isn’t much else to do but feel them kick and let them grow.”

“Savor it,” Willa added, looking down at Enda. “You’ll see the restless end-of-pregnancy Dany soon enough.”

“I wasn’t that awful!”

“Oh, aye, and my hair isn’t brown!”

Before Dany could retort, the door opened with a flurry of paws, shaved ice, and Jon. The small house had doubled in capacity. Somehow, however, it felt more comfortable like this. Perhaps, Dany thought, it was because she had been without many other people for several weeks. The solitude of her travels with Jon from Dragonstone had given way to a comfortable existence within a clan, able to come and go into the heart of Shadowedge as she pleased. Being isolated had been more difficult than she had first realized.

Rose, once set down by her father, made a toddling beeline for Enda. Dany watched as Enda instinctively knelt down to get on Rose’s level, the blonde girl beaming at her tiny friend. 

If she had not been standing so close to Willa, Dany would not have heard the tiny cough from her friend. At first, she felt her insides curl up at the notion that Willa could be sick.  _ She may be an incredible healer, but she’d be a horrible patient,  _ Dany thought. Glancing at her friend, Dany saw that this was not the case, but Willa looked at Rose and Enda and gave a subtle jerk of her head towards Rose’s room and then the door. 

Quickly, Dany caught on. “Um, Enda?” The girl looked up from playing with Rose, which had taken the form of poking each other’s noses (although Rose merely palmed Enda’s face). “Do you - uh - think you might put Rose down for her nap and keep an eye on her for a bit? We’ll just be outside.”

“Okay,” Enda said brightly, still smiling. “Come on, Rose.”

As the two girls made their way to the small room in the back, Willa motioned for Dany to follow her and Dany took Jon’s hand to bring him along.

“What? What’s wrong?” Jon asked as Willa, carefully stepping in the foot holes previously made, headed back towards the lean-to. 

When they had stopped right at the lean-to’s entrance, the hand Dany clasped headed to her stomach, to which Dany shook her head. “No, it’s not that,” she told him, “Willa has something else she came here for. Don’t you?”

The healer looked troubled when she turned around. Her snappy nature that had been on display earlier seemed sobered, almost blanched. 

“It’s Inniq,” she said bluntly.

Beside her, Dany felt a dark change in Jon’s demeanour. His dislike for Inniq was palatable. Willa continued, “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Enda - it’s been making her upset - but that’s one of the reasons I offered to Kolla that I’d bring her with me today.”

“What’s he done now?” Jon asked gruffly. 

“It’s nothing specific,” Willa replied. “He’s been much worse since the rains came. You know how he is. Everything that goes wrong is someone else’s fault, everything that goes right is Inniq’s doing. Wouldn’t be so bad if there were other people around, but so many are off on the cliffsides or bringing word to the other villages…” Willa looked awkwardly at Dany, who had frowned. 

It was her leadership that had left Shadowedge with a sparse population of even-tempered individuals for the time being. Willa cleared her throat, pressing on in her story. “He’s been running his mouth more. Making comments about the dragons and how helping them is a poor plan -”

“Jon said Kolla told him the same thing,” Dany interrupted, “But he said she said no one’s listening.” 

Willa grimaced. “Well, yes, but also no. Some of the children - Nerell’s the one I know about firsthand - have been clinging to him like sand on wet feet. That’s why I-”

“Wait,” she said, interrupting again, “ _ Nerell’s _ been agreeing with him?”

“Listening, agreeing. I wouldn’t have believed it either until I was at Kolla’s and saw Enda and Nerell get into a horrible argument when he started spouting off Inniq’s words.”

“But - but he met the dragons!” Dany spluttered, looking from Willa to Jon and back again. Were they really talking about the same boy? The one who had been blown away with awe at meeting a dragon? The one who had described to his sister in great and precise detail every second of his encounter with Drogon? The one who had said he wanted to build trust just like Dany had? “He liked Drogon! He even touched him! Are you sure?”

Crossing her arms, Willa replied, “He also said that the dragons were the reason for all the problems we’ve been having. That they were vicious, evil, and had no reason to be here other than to take our food and cause trouble. And if the people who were supporting the idea that we could share our land with dragons really thought that way, they could clear out along with their damned scaly friends and find somewhere else to live.”

“He said that?” Dany asked weakly.

Jon snorted. His eyes were dark and mirthless. “He  _ repeated _ it,” he said to Dany harshly. 

She could almost read his thoughts: “ _ Didn’t I tell you that Inniq was no good? _ ”

_ Still _ , she thought mutinously in response,  _ words and actions are different _ . Her insides, however, clenched uncomfortably.

“Then Enda shouted at him to stop and knocked him over,” Willa said, frowning.

Kolla, Willa said, looked harangued at this turn of events and confessed later that it was more of a regular occurrence than she wanted to admit. When they were not arguing, Enda and Nerell no longer spoke to one another. For all her goodness, Kolla was at a loss about what to do with the two feuding siblings, or about the looming presence of Inniq’s vitriol that she could not seem to keep her adopted son from. It wasn’t a large enough village to keep Nerell from seeing Inniq around without arousing suspicion, and many of Nerell’s friends followed Inniq around too, so he was  _ always _ present.

Willa shrugged. “So I offered to have Enda come learn about healing from me to take her mind off things and give Kolla a break.” She looked at her boots, suddenly seeming more tired. “I’m starting to miss the other voices besides Inniq’s.”

“It won’t be as bad once some of the volunteers return,” Dany offered, perhaps trying to convince herself as much as Willa. The clenching was becoming even more uncomfortable.

“And when will that be?” Willa snapped quickly, glaring at Dany, “Tormund’s been gone a month already!”

“Don’t bite her head off for this!” Jon said defensively, “Nobody ever said the decisions we made were going to be easy. But you know as well as I do that they were the right ones, whatever Inniq or anyone else says.”

Willa’s golden eyes flicked angrily to Jon, but they softened. “Sorry,” she murmured, glancing back at Dany.

She nodded in response, not wishing to say more on the subject, and looked to Jon. His thoughts were nearly unreadable, but she knew his face better than anyone. Someone’s stomach was clenching harder than hers right now.

“Come on,” he said to the women, ushering with an arm around both of them, “Before Enda thinks we’ve been outside too long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for these big delays between chapters. Life gets in the way of writing (as does a small addiction to rereading the "Outlander" series but that's beside the point).
> 
> We're beginning to quietly deviate from the source material on woods witches, just as a heads up if you've been following along with the wiki! Also, with this chapter I learned that Iceland has specific medieval laws related to their grey geese which was entertaining.


	53. Clan Divided

Ice lay thickly over the Haunted Woods for several weeks after Willa had brought news that Shadowedge was free of sickness. Free to come and go from their home according to the humans, nature had other plans for Dany and her family. While it was no longer cold enough to crack fence posts or freeze tears before it even left eyes, the ice made the forest and even the clearing itself virtually impassable.

Once again, Dany was confined to her house and the feeling of immurement continued to lay overtop of her like the ice outside. Perhaps this feeling was under slightly better circumstances than torrential rain (at least, according to people much happier in frozen landscapes than wet ones), but there was only so long a person could exist in one place. One step out the door was a gamble on whether or not she’d slide all the way down the banks of the Antler. There was no way she could have made it to Shadowedge, Rose in tow or not, or anywhere else for that matter. 

Even her surefooted husband was no match. She glanced up from mending her nightshirt and looked over at her bed. Jon lay propped up on Dany’s one pillow, his own and her second being used to elevate his right knee. Their daughter had her horse and wolf toys parading over his stomach while Jon plodded a recently-carved bear down to greet them.

“The snow bear’s coming for them, Rosie!” Jon warned jovially. His injury, days old now but still plaguing him, had not dampened his spirits too much. 

“Neigh! Neigh neigh neigh!” Rose replied, tramping her panicked toys away from the creeping bear. Jon winced slightly when Rose’s toys stepped a little too heavily, but he was grinning when he caught Dany’s eye.

“What about your direwolf?” Jon prompted, pointing with her free hand, “What sound does the wolf make, hm?”

Rose looked up at him, curly hair falling in her face -  _ it’s gotten so long _ , Dany thought - and tapped the toy on his stomach again. 

Jon brushed the hair from her eyes. “Let’s ask Mama,” he mock-whispered, looking back at Dany. His eyes were glittering with mirth, and she knew what was coming. “Dany, love, any idea what sound a direwolf makes?”

While her eyes narrowed at her husband, the corner of Dany’s mouth curled up and she set her mending on the table. Tilting her head up, Dany let out an “ _ Awwwwoooo _ !” that sent Rose into a fit a giggles.

“ _ Awwwwoooo _ !” Jon joined in, only to be drowned out by a mournful howl from near Dany’s feet.

“Woo-woo-wooooooo!” Rose shouted happily with Ghost, making Jon and Dany laugh.

When it was time to sleep, however, Dany began to regret teaching Rose what sound a direwolf makes. Though the toddler went to bed easily, the still of the house kept being punctuated by small “wooo-wooooo’s” coming from Rose’s bedroom. She had made no move to get out of bed, and Dany was loath to potentially rile her up by going into the tiny room, so the woo noises continued on. Jon had taken the pillow from behind his head and thrown it over his face to block out the sound, but she could tell by the continual shifting behind her that he was not finding sleep easy either.

A hand shot out from under the furs and gripped her arm. Slightly awkwardly, Dany shifted over and allowed his arm to curl around her. Her right hand wandered over his chest, tracing patterns where the toy animals had roamed, while he drew slow loops on her back underneath her newly-mended nightshirt. The feeling was soothing and her own drawing rhythm was continuous. Soon, there was a break in the “woos,” and she drifted off contentedly.

~

“It’s not solid anymore!” 

Dany looked up from spooning porridge into Rose’s mouth. Jon was standing in the doorway of their home, one booted foot in the snow outside.

He turned back around looking distinctly pleased. “I think we may  _ actually  _ be able to get to Shadowedge today.”

“Is that wise?” Dany asked, scrutinizing how he was standing. She was only partially paying attention to feeding Rose and caught herself trying to give the table a bit of porridge before redirecting it to her daughter’s mouth.

“It’s mostly a flat walk,” Jon replied, walking over and freeing her hands of the spoon and porridge. He was still favoring his right leg, but Dany could see the distinct improvement from when he had crawled and slid back home after initially injuring it. 

When she hesitated answering, Jon added imploringly, “ _ And _ it would be good to see Willa about this knee.”

Dany acquiesced with a nod. It was a good idea...and it would also be good just to see her friend and be in Shadowedge again.  _ Soon _ , Dany thought with pangs of both longing and excitement, drawing a hand over her stomach,  _ it’ll be back to the clearing for another long while. _

Therefore, with Ghost pulling Rose on the sled, the family crunched up the path of the clearing off to Shadowedge at the same plodding pace Jon had set yesterday for the bear toy.

It did not take quite as long to get to Shadowedge as Dany had expected, but the trip was paused multiple times by minor missteps and Jon’s knee unexpectedly giving out (Dany covered Rose’s ears to block the stream of expletives). Still, they managed to get into Shadowedge intact and Dany observed that the ice had definitely weakened its grip on the land. It was not yet the thick, powdery snow-on-frost she had grown used to, but it was better than the solid sheet of slippage.

The atmosphere in Shadowedge was almost buzzing. Nobody seemed to notice as Jon, Dany, Ghost, and Rose came in from the west. At first, this made Dany’s stomach drop. Had something happened? 

Then, she saw a familiar shag of bronze hair and caught the smile of a most welcome friend. 

“You’re back!” Dany exclaimed to Birger, who had nearly broke into a run when he saw them approach. He had a fantastic black eye and looked slightly worse for the wear, but he was smiling.

“Yesterday,” Birger said, clasping hands with Jon and then with Dany, whose hands he did not release. Under her thumbs, his knuckles felt as if they had cuts only just beginning to heal. “Your plan is working,” he told her earnestly, his brown eyes intent, “We blocked every path down the cliffs we could find ‘til the cliffs gave way to low ground. Everyone came back with me.”

“Did you see any ships?” Jon asked quickly. 

Birger looked to him, dropping Dany’s hands. “Ah...one. There may’ve been two, but we think it was just the same ship twice. We saw a ship almost at the end of our journey, not far off the coast. Heading north, perhaps from Skagos. Then coming back we sheltered in Lowtree during the rain - would’ve been back ages ago if it hadn’t been for the weather - and a few of them there spoke of seeing a ship when they had gone to the cliffs. But we haven’t seen any sign of one since then.

“They listened, by the way,” he said, turning back to Dany. “Them and the nomads we met. It wasn’t many, but they all believed us. One man even swore he’d seen Saphira as a boy. When we told them what we were doing - and why - they really listened. Said this was no place for invaders anymore and that they’d keep a watch.”

The young man was beaming, but Dany reached up and gingerly brushed her fingers over his swollen eye. It felt almost parental even though Birger was merely a few years younger. “What happened?” she asked him.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a spat,” Birger said, shrugging her off. “Come on, you’re going to Willa’s, I expect? I’ll walk with you, I need to get something from her.”

~

Willa’s home had its usual warm, aromatic welcome when Dany walked in. Ghost, unhitched from the sled, had been left to roam Shadowedge in search of his usual handouts. 

At the table near the fire sat Willa, surrounded by a tiny knot of children. Enda sat with her chin propped on her folded hands, watching as the healer made packets of herbs. Meanwhile, Myl, Thistle, and Devyn were sitting on the ground near the fire sorting through the basket of Willa’s trinkets.

“Dany!” Myl cried jubilantly when everyone looked up to see who had entered. He hopped up immediately and raced over, careening into her waist and wrapping his arms around her. “You haven’t come here for  _ forever _ ! And Enda said she got to see you with Willa! And that you still don’t have another baby! And I lost a tooth!” He smiled briefly to show her the gap in his front teeth, “I think I swallowed it! And then - and then yesterday -”

Willa cleared her throat, cutting Myl off. She had stood up as well, her gold eyes scanning over the group that had just entered her house. 

Her eyes came to rest on Jon. “What’d you do that made her haul off and break your knee?” 

She shook her head and waved her hand to her bed. “Just...sit down there. Hand your child to one of mine. And  _ you _ ,” she pointed at Birger, “Enda can give you the salve she kindly made and you can be off. Use it liberally and come back for more when you need it.”

Birger, Dany observed, looked sheepish but did as he was told. Taking a small weirwood leaf-wrap from a shy Enda, he muttered his thanks and nodded to both Dany and Jon before slipping out the door. 

There was no time to puzzle over the exchange, however, as Dany and Jon, and Rose were pulled in separate directions. 

Dany watched as the children quickly began to entertain Rose with Willa’s trinkets. “And look at this one, Rose! Isn’t this the teeniest pinecone you’ve ever seen?” Thistle gushed, her voice cracking on the last word.

“Cah!” Rose replied, which Dany was sure meant “cone.” All three children laughed, cooing over their young friend. 

“How long has it been like this?” Willa asked, redirecting Dany’s attention. She was tenderly examining Jon’s right knee, seeming to scrutinize what she was feeling. 

Jon shrugged. “A week maybe? Went outside one morning to feed the horse, slipped and just came down wrong on it.”

“He crawled back,” Dany interjected, “He couldn’t stand on it but we got him into bed and raised it up immediately. I kept breaking off chunks of ice hanging from the roof to put on it for the first few days.”

“But it’s gotten better!” Jon insisted, “I can walk again. Haven’t lifted anything heavy yet, but I’m sure I could.”

“Mmph,” Willa said, leaving their side and walking around the children to the fire. There she rooted around in her plants and moments later returned with a cup of hot, strong-smelling liquid which she handed to Jon. Dany shifted away. The smell was making her queasy. 

Willa nodded to the cup. “Mountain tea. Drink it now, it will help with the lingering pain - though I wouldn’t have done much else differently,” she said, looking praisingly at Dany.

Watching as Jon dutifully drank the tea, Willa casually commented to Enda, “You can’t let that one steep too long or brew too many batches of it. Too much of the plant will kill him.” Jon choked on his gulp of tea. Willa ignored him. “But lessening the pain a little bit can go a long way, especially with warriors who are used to fighting through it.”

She left the bedside to walk back over to the congregation on her floor. “Come on, you four,” Willa said to the children sitting on the ground, “We could all do with some fresh air. You can take these outside if you want.” Always excitable, Myl jumped up and began scooping the trinkets into their basket to bring them outside. Devyn did the same, albeit much more methodically, while Thistle and Enda kindly helped Rose to her feet and led her out in front of Willa, Dany helping Jon hobble out behind them.

“Did she say that tea could kill me?” Jon muttered to his wife. Dany said nothing, but smiled and patted his chest reassuringly.

Myl had already dumped the basket out before anyone else had a chance to settle down. Seeing its contents all in one place, Dany noticed for the first time that none of these trinkets were the ones Willa wore in her hair. She looked at Willa questioningly, and received an impish wink in return.  _ Trust Willa to have a spare basket _ .

“All right?” Willa quizzed as Dany settled into her usual spot after Jon had sat down.

“It’s just the trip here,” Dany told her, “And then seeing Birger. I mean, they all came back yesterday, right?”

She nodded. “In the early evening. The ice had broken up by then - I’m guessing that’s why you finally made it here too? - and the whole group of them came in. Honestly, it feels like Shadowedge is alive again. Though I could do without the influx of injuries,” she finished darkly.

“Yes, what happened to Birger’s eye and hand? He said everyone they spoke to out there listened to them, agreed too.”

“Everyone  _ out there _ did!” Myl interjected, frowning at the pinecones he was sorting and shoving a round, green pebble from the bunch aside with added force.

Dany raised her eyebrows, glancing at Jon, who shrugged in response. Willa sighed. “There was a bit of trouble while we heard Birger’s report of their journey yesterday,” she said delicately. Except for Rose, the children had quietly stopped what they were doing to stare up at Willa. Thistle, who had been giving Rose different objects to hold, did not notice when the toddler began attempting to tug a knotted bit of cloth from her firmly fisted hand.

“Go on,” Dany said.

“Oh, you know, the usual these days,” Willa replied waving an errant hand theatrically. “What a waste of time. Nothing got accomplished besides knocking down some rocks. Should’ve been here since hunting’s been so poor. Protecting these dangerous creatures making our lives more difficult” - Enda uncharacteristically snorted at this - “I think the part where Inniq said, ‘We shouldn’t believe that foreign cunt actually has our best interests,’ is when Birger finally punched him in the mouth.”

“ _ What? _ ”

Myl’s eyes flashed to Jon, as did Devyn’s, while Enda winced at the sound of his voice. Thistle’s face was red with embarrassment as she focused as intently as possible on playing with Rose again. Clearly, this was not the first time any of these four had heard these words and Dany was sure that they had initially heard them directly from the source.

Willa’s face, besides looking rather defeated, had a resigned element of  _ “what did I tell you?” _ across it as she looked at Dany rather than Jon. “Yes, well,” she said. Her voice was calm, but flushed patches had appeared on her cheeks. Dany could hear the brittle note when Willa spoke again, “He can’t get much more overt than that. But, believe me, he looks worse than Birger does.”

“He’s about to look a damn sight worse!” Jon threatened, erupting from his seat, pain forgotten. Thistle’s mother, Sif, who was across the way haggling with a visiting trader, looked alarmed at the outburst. Willa waved her off while Dany stood up, grabbing Jon’s arm to stop him from charging to the nearest home in search of Inniq’s face.

“ _ Don’t _ ,” she warned Jon, who strained against her grip, “It’s not worth it.”

“Sorry - did you hear what he called you?” Jon hissed through gritted teeth, mere inches from her face. His gray eyes were blazing with fierce intensity and Dany almost felt like he was furious with her rather than Inniq. 

Perhaps she should have been furious too. Should have erupted out of her seat like Jon had and demanded to know where Inniq was.  _ But he’s still only hot air _ , her thoughts insisted. Nobody believed him. Birger had punched him.  _ Except Nerell believes him _ , said the other voice in her head,  _ and you know others do too. Who’s to say more won’t? _

“She’s right,” Willa said firmly, snapping Dany from her thoughts as she stood between the couple and forced Jon to back off. “He’s not worth it. And anyways he’s not here.”

“Well where is he?” Jon demanded.

“ _ Scouting _ ,” Enda answered immediately. 

“Scou - what?”

“Scounting,” Enda said again. “I don’t really know what it is. Nerell acts like it’s a big secret and so do the others. But they go out in the woods with Inniq a lot and...I don’t know...look around? 

“They even went while it was all frozen over. Lots of them have come back with injuries. Kolla was really mad when Nerell came back with a broken finger after slipping and falling. And he just went out again the next day!” Enda ended her explanation by jabbing one of the bigger pinecones into the frozen ground. It splintered into pieces.

“Hey!” Myl shouted at her, “Stop breaking things!”

“Myl, don’t start up ag-” 

Multiple things happened at once, cutting Willa off. Myl chucked a piece of the broken pinecone at Enda and missed, hitting Rose instead. The toddler burst into startled tears, which caused a mortified Myl to burst into an equal torrent of apologetic tears as well. As Dany scrambled to calm down Rose, Thistle began harshly chastising Myl while Jon simultaneously tried to soothe the small boy. Meanwhile, over the wails of the children, loud shouts from the southern edge of the village became very audible. It drew everyone’s attention (luckily ending Thistle’s angry speech to Myl), and Dany found herself trying to redirect herself to her hiccuping, teary daughter. 

Simultaneously, much closer shouts came from the west, but it was not nearly as jubilant. Instead, it was panicked.

“ _ Willa! _ ” 

Three boys came charging through the village. The middle one, who was also the biggest, was being virtually dragged by the two flanking him. When they came closer, Dany could see that he was bleeding. His head was lolling to one side and the blood was coming from four jagged slashes across his chest and left shoulder. Time - and the people around Dany - seemed to freeze as she watched the blood stain the ground. For a second, her vision felt hazy around the edges, and she could hear the waves of the ocean crashing and the roaring overhead like the last time she had watched blood color the white land. 

Willa reacted the fastest. “Inside,  _ now! _ ” she barked, ushering the boys into her house startling Dany, who left Rose and hurried forward. “I’ll need help - not you, Dany, you’ll be in the way - go get me Kolla or Aspen. Or both.

“And Enda y-” the girl had frozen at the sight of the trauma. “If you’re not moving fast enough, don’t bother coming in!” Willa snapped. The door shut.

A moment later, Arne, one of the two boys who had dragged the third, came out alone. His clothes, face, and hands were covered with a mix of mud and blood. Under the grime, he looked expressionless, as if one of his closest friends had not just been bleeding out onto him. Wordlessly, he stooped down and began rubbing the snow over his hands to clean off. 

“What happened?” Jon asked abruptly, suddenly reminding Dany that there were several other people here. Or there were. Thistle and Myl were gone. Enda seemed to be trying her best to disappear into her hands, while Devyn looked to Arne to answer Jon’s question. Only Rose seemed to be blithely unaffected by what had occurred. 

Just then, Thistle and Myl returned with Aspen in tow. The woman hurried inside without a word, her face taut with worry. The excitement from the south had gotten louder. 

Arne, who had been momentarily distracted by this arrival, looked back at Jon and then past him at Dany. “ _ Now _ isn’t the time to pick your company, Arne,” Jon said roughly, “What. Happened?”

“Njal was attacked,” Arne said bluntly, “while we were out. Inniq had said t-” He stuttered on the words and looked at Dany again.

Jon looked to Dany as well and then back at Arne. “Yes, Dany’s here,” he said testily, putting a hand on Arne’s shoulder, “Tell us the rest of what happened.”

“I don’t know!” Arne shouted, wrenching himself away from Jon. His eyes were wide like those of a cornered animal and he quickly looked down at his feet, but the words began pouring out despite the older boy’s seeming efforts not to speak. “We’ve been scouting every day for a while. When the hunting started becoming scarce, Inniq said we needed to find proof about what’s been doing it. He said everyone staying close to home because of the weather was the perfect time to find proof.”

“Of the dragons overhunting,” Dany guessed, “...Or? Someone hunting for them?”

Arne didn’t answer, but eyed Dany guiltily before continuing, “Me, Njal, and Dern were down by the Antler scouting from a tree. Njal thought he saw something strange and went to go check it out. Then we heard him screaming. I thought it - well, it wasn’t - I don’t know what attacked him, okay? But Dern just grabbed him and we ran back here. That’s all I know!” 

Before Jon could say anything more, pained cries erupted from Willa’s house and Dany thought she heard Willa say “Hold him still!” Arne winced for his friend. Dany saw that Devyn had as well. With a jolt, she remembered that Njal was his brother. She leaned down to comfort him, but the sound of hulking footsteps made her stop and look up.

A broad, redheaded figure had made his way over to the group gathered outside Willa’s house. His face wore the distinct expression of someone who had been grinning very widely before being given horrible news. 

“‘Fraid I might’ve picked the wrong day to come home,” Tormund said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that feeling where you have writer's block for a solid month and a half but know how you want the story to go and the words are just not cooperating? Yeah. So do I. I've literally had an endpoint for both the story and this chapter since before my last update and could not for the life of me write the middle.
> 
> Anyways, hopefully we're back with a little more of a prolific pace. I had a minor breakthrough with the plot yesterday and can start moving forward again!
> 
> In the meantime, for any dragon fans, may I suggest checking out Tui Sutherland's "Wings of Fire" series? I like to keep up on YA books for work and was surprised by how much I've enjoyed it thus far.


	54. Cats and Conflict

“I’m a failure,” Enda muttered to her feet, as she walked into the Haunted Woods.

“No you’re not,” Jon and Dany said simultaneously. The couple glanced sideways at each other and Dany saw Jon give a near-imperceptible shrug before saying to Enda, “It’s okay to now be ready for something. You haven’t even made any mistakes, you’re just still learning! And if you continue on like this, Dany and I shall collectively list every time we’ve considered ourselves failures and you won’t leave this spot until our baby comes.”

“And we won’t be finished at that time,” Dany added. 

The sun was barely visible in the gaps between the trees. At this time, it had already begun to dip down past the Frostfangs and the chill of evening had set in. Enda, Dany, Jon, and Rose (now fast asleep in her sled with Ghost pulling it) had stayed rooted in the same spot since Arne and Dern had brought the gravely injured Njal to Willa until quite recently. Tormund had joined them. Then Dern had been sent out soon after and he and Devyn, still petrified with the shock of seeing his brother, left without another word to go tell his father what had happened. When the afternoon light got faint, Dany sent Thistle and Myl home with the promise that they would know tomorrow if Njal was all right. 

Willa had only just emerged when the sun began to sink.

“I’m going to fetch Kolla,” she had told Dany and Jon, “Aspen needs to go home and I - you’re here!”

Despite herself, a wide grin broke out over Willa’s face when she spotted Tormund. She reached for him, but her expression was quickly replaced with panic and she paused her motion. “I - why are you here  _ now _ ? I have a patient! I can’t -”

Tormund grabbed her hand anyway and smiled. “You need to finish your work,” he finished for her. “How can I help?”

“Come with me.” Willa turned back to Dany and Jon. “He’s alive,” she told them. Dany noticed she was careful not to look at Enda. “I’ll know more tomorrow when I see you again.” Without another word, Willa had tugged Tormund by the hand and been off.

It had been their cue to leave, but both Dany and Jon were hesitant to leave Enda alone. They did not move until Willa and Tormund returned with Kolla, who stopped when she saw Enda still hunched over, having refused to interact at all.

“Have you been here all day?” she asked gently. As always, Dany felt warmer when Kolla spoke and she could tell that Enda felt slightly better as well, for the girl lifted her head to look at her adopted mother and nod. “Why don’t you head home now, lark? It’s all right.”

“But what about you?” Enda asked in a small voice. For a moment, she looked to Willa and then dropped her gaze.

Kolla’s eyes flashed quickly side to side and then, as if Enda had communicated something silent to her, replied, “Ah.” The woman looked around and Dany saw an idea cross her face as her gaze settled on them. “Jon, Dany, do you think you could…?”

“Of course,” Jon said gallantly before Dany could process the question. “She’ll be well taken care of.” At this, Enda’s shoulders had dropped in relief.

Now they walked together back towards the clearing in the woods. Enda’s words about failure had made Dany feel terribly disdainful towards Willa for what she had said earlier. Of course, it had been a very tense and stressful situation. But snapping at Enda when she was only just beginning to follow in Willa’s footsteps seemed harsh.  _ Maybe that’s why she was avoiding looking at her _ , Dany supposed. Her friend was prickly and stubborn at the best of times, but perhaps she had felt, as Dany did, that her words had gone too far.

In any case, curiosity seemed to take over from Enda’s anxiety, and she now looked quizzically at Jon and Dany. “ _ You’ve  _ thought you’ve failed?” she asked incredulously.

“Many times,” Dany replied. She could just make out Jon nodding in agreement. The light had become dusky, almost like an obscured looking glass as the sun sank out of sight and took its meager warmth with it.

“When?” Enda insisted. 

Dany glanced sideways at Jon for help. They did not often talk about their pasts amongst their clan. Except for Tormund, and Willa to an extent, not many people knew much past their involvement with fighting the Night King and his army. Fairly, Jon was more well-known given his experiences with the Night’s Watch, Mance Rayder, and leading the free folk south. Many a traveler who passed through Shadowedge would regard Jon with a look of curious reverence when they thought nobody else was watching them. But otherwise they treated him just the same as anyone else; which was the way he and Dany preferred it.

Under Dany’s look, Jon shrugged as if to say “we got ourselves into this,” ( _ you started it _ , she thought mutinously) but he offered no words for Enda and Dany instead paused for a moment before saying, “Well one time would be when Drogon was stolen from me.”

Even in the darkness, she could see the girl’s eyes widen at the beginning of the makings of a good story. The old thrill of storytelling swooped in Dany’s stomach. Her recent confinement to her house meant that the only audience she had was a very disinterested daughter (usually asleep for storytime) and a horse and direwolf who could not understand enough Common Tongue to be particularly captivated. 

“It was several years ago, when I lived in Essos. My  _ khalasar _ \- the group of Dothraki who traveled with me - and I were headed across the Red Waste. It was a very bad time for us. The Red Waste is a vast expanse of desert. Much like the land above our forest, but horrifyingly hot instead of cold. There is no water there. Nothing to drink.

“But, just when we were about to resign ourselves to the slow death of thirst, we found a city at the edge of the -”

“ _ Shh! _ ”

Jon had stopped suddenly, grabbing onto Ghost to stop the direwolf as well. Enda and Dany ground to a halt as well, both stumbling at the abruptness of it. 

“Why did you -” but Dany’s hiss of annoyance was cut off when her husband swung his hand out behind him to shush her again. In the same motion, he ducked down and lifted Rose from her sled, passing the child to her mother. As Dany took Rose onto her hip. As she caught the seriousness in Jon’s eyes, she pulled Enda close to her other side. The girl was breathing very quickly. She, too, seemed to sense a sudden change in the air which had made the hair on the back of Dany’s neck prick, leaving her feeling very exposed even in the shelter of the woods she called home.

She saw a glint as Jon produced a knife and silently gestured to the trees just off to their left. Without moving, Dany looked where he had gestured, forcing her eyes to see through the cloak of darkness. She could just make out the difference in shades of black between the trees and the spots of sky and landscape in between. Everything was still. Wind barely whispered amongst the leaves and the only movement Dany could see were the furls of breath belonging to the people around her. 

Except for - there! - she spotted it amongst the trees before she heard it: the soft thunk of huge paws on the ground. Had there been no ice to crunch under the deft weight, she would never have noticed.

The group watched, still, as the cat trotted ahead across their path with a snow fox swinging limply from its jaws. Deftly, it leapt over a snowbank and disappeared from sight, taking the only sound in the forest with it. 

Everyone stood frozen even after the shadowcat had disappeared until Jon lowered his knife. Enda breathed a shudder against Dany, hugging closer to her, while Dany and Jon exchanged a grim look. “Come on,” Jon said quietly, leading them down the path towards where the shadowcat had crossed.

After passing the large, five-clawed tracks, it was mere minutes before they reached their home clearing and the group quickly filed inside. Jon lit a fire in the hearth, and the room was illuminated in a pleasant glow as warmth began to seep into their chilled bones.

Enda’s quavering voice broke through the dim light. “It won’t come here...w-will it?”

“No,” Jon replied firmly. “I won’t let it.”

~

Dany started awake in the darkness as if someone had yelled in her ear. Quickly checking that that was not the case - the only audible sound was her own breathing - yielded other revelations that gripped her stomach. The other side of the bed was empty. 

A glance around the room told Dany that Jon had left, judging by his missing boots, but there was fresh wood in the fire. Even with the fire burning, however, Dany felt cold where her skin touched the air, like the outside had recently entered and made its way around the room. 

Knowing that she would not get back to sleep and now intent on asking her husband what exactly he meant by disappearing into the night with no indication he was leaving, Dany got out of bed and slipped into warmer clothes. After a quick check that both Enda and Rose were asleep, she pulled her boots on and quietly crept out into the night. 

It was not difficult to spot where Jon had gone - there was light in the barn - and Dany crossed the clearing as fast her body would allow her, not wanting to linger in the dark. Her steps sounded loud and clumsy as she trod over the uneven, frozen ground. At the entrance to the barn, she was greeted with an arrow pointed directly at her

“What the hell are you doing?” she and Jon exclaimed at the same time.

Without answering or letting her answer, Jon lowered his bow and yanked Dany inside. As she passed by, she could see the normally soft lines on his face were taut. Embar, who was lying down in his favorite back corner, nickered sleepily to her.

“Well?” Jon hissed, turning his back to the door. 

Ignoring him for the moment, Dany walked over to Embar to scratch the stallion behind his ears. She couldn’t often reach the top of his head. Even atop him, Embar’s neck was so long that -- especially while pregnant -- it was difficult to get to his ears and poll. 

Jon made an impatient noise and Dany snapped his eyes to him, feeling a sudden surge of frustration. Why should  _ he _ get to treat her like this? After all, hadn’t  _ she _ come out here for the exact reason he was annoyed? Her insides itched and she could feel her will being tested, wanting to have a go at him, to get him to react to her and just simply bother him and give him a taste of her irritation so they could be pissed off together; but she forced herself to say something more polite. “I should really ask you the same question,” she remarked evenly with a politicked smile. “After all, imagine  _ my  _ surprise to wake up and find that my husband had decided to go on a stroll out into the woods in the middle of the night.”

“I wasn’t  _ strolling _ !” Jon protested indignantly.  _ Got you _ , Dany thought. Satisfaction melted into her frustration, splitting her thoughts into two sides of wanting to press him more and knowing that the proper thing to do was to let it go now. 

She waited for a minute. 

“I was...watching,” he said, glancing behind his shoulder as if to illustrate his point. Dany quirked her eyebrows and, unexpectedly, Jon let out a haggard sigh and sank defeatedly onto the ground. Suddenly, he looked much smaller, almost as if the world was looming over him menacingly.

Both satisfaction and frustration had disappeared from Dany’s feelings now, replaced with worry that clutched at her as she knelt beside Jon and placed her hand on his knee, circling her thumb over its side. 

He gripped her hand tightly, sighing again before speaking. “Remember when we left Dragonstone?” he asked her.

Despite herself, Dany smiled for a second. It was a fuzzy memory. One she could never keep straight in her head beside the major details and feelings...and the leftover hand injury. The fear and panic from it had faded, now it was a memory of the beginning of their life and family. Of Rose and the child inside her, of Willa and Tormund, Enda, and the home they had built at the top of the world. Where would they be if they hadn’t left? 

“Of course I remember,” she told him. 

“It was the right thing to do,” Jon said, his eyes unfocused as if he were reliving the experience, justifying himself. “It was so selfish. But it was right.” He looked at her and said seriously, “Because I don’t believe you’d be here right now if we hadn’t left.”

He squeezed his grip on Dany’s hand more tightly, nearly pushing the bones of her hand together, as if trying to anchor her to the world and to him. 

Jon continued. “And we knew we’d never be totally safe from that, but every instance since then, every time something’s happened, it’s been out of our control. Or at least something we couldn’t have known about. At least, that’s what I tell myself.”

Dany opened her mouth to tell Jon that he couldn’t possibly blame himself for anything that’s happened, but he stopped her as he spoke more. “But I  _ know _ about the shadowcat, Dany. And just sleeping inside pretending that it’s not in the woods  _ next to us _ , that it’s not doing things I’ve never heard of a shadowcat doing before...I needed to be out here. I  _ need _ to keep my watch.”

His jaw set firmly with those final words and he fixed Dany with his steely gray stare in determination. 

For the third time, her emotions had switched dramatically, and she felt overcome with the familiar wave of love coupled with an odd sensation to laugh. 

“What a pair we are,” she remarked, sliding her knees out from under her and leaning on Jon. He looked at her curiously and Dany shrugged. “Do you ever remember a time where you didn’t feel crushed by responsibility?”

Jon scoffed, quirking his brow. “Do you?”

“I should,” Dany replied, “but I don’t. The only feeling I remember from childhood is yearning. Before, when I came in here, I just really wanted to have a go at you for this. For leaving the house in the night and what not. I wanted to give into that so bad -- you know: a regular argument about a mild grievance. Like Willa and Tormund have. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’m not even sure I know  _ how _ to do that,” she admitted.

Jon chuckled, causing Dany to join in as she thought og how ridiculous and true her admission was. 

“Well,” Jon said, “next time you want to have a go at me for something, just let me know and we can learn how to do it together.” At this, both of them laughed harder.

When they had calmed down, the little ending chuckles subsiding into just smiling at each other, Dany reached to stroke her slender fingers over Jon’s cheek. “You’re quite a man,  _ mahrazhkem anni, _ ” she told him.

“As are you,” Jon replied. “Woman. Quite a woman. That’s what I meant. Woman. Sorry, never mind. I love you,  _ that’s _ what I mean. Stay with me a while?”

With another murmur of laughter, Dany nodded and settled in closer to her husband. “Always,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like we're posting monthly right now (life really does get in the way!)...plodding to the end. But hopefully it's an enjoyable plod! I'm really looking forward to continuing this plod with you all - everything's starting to fall in place, so aside from actually dragging the words out of my brain the story is actually happening and not floundering around.
> 
> It's interesting to see how Jon's past has followed him like Dany's has. I like to think that he's been a lot more reserved about it (and obviously we can't see his thoughts), but I enjoyed pulling it out of him a bit.
> 
> Hopefully you'll see me a few times more before spring (or fall for any of you southern hemisphere friends). We're quickly hurtling towards the one year mark in the story!


	55. Fowl Thoughts

Dany woke in the morning with a backache. The venture to the barn in search of Jon the night before had stretched for some amount of time she could not recall, since she had fallen asleep soon after their conversation finished. It was only when she was gently shaken awake, stiff and bent awkwardly into Jon’s side, with him whispering, “come, your lips are blue,” that they had left the barn. Jon had carried her back into the house, into bed, and she had surrendered to sleep once more. 

It was pleasantly warm under the furs, at the precipice of wakefulness. She was sure that her lips were no longer blue, although her body was definitely aching with the after-effects of cold and the baby sitting awkwardly to one side. But it was a nice feeling overall, in her little pocket of the world. As if to say hello, Dany felt a few tiny kicks and jabs knead at her.  _ Rytsas rūs _ , she thought contentedly. 

Interrupting her dreamy existence, the door of the house was thrown open and promptly pulled shut again. Cold air extinguished the last of Dany’s sleepy haze. This awakening was quickly followed by Jon stumping over to her bedside. 

Ruefully, Dany looked up at him and pulled the furs up closer to her nose. “Did you take your boots off?” she asked from beneath them. 

“Ah…”

Even though most of her face was hidden, Dany could tell Jon recognized her frown. He stooped down for a moment and she heard the clunk of his boots being tossed aside (when would he learn to put them by the door?) before he popped up again. 

From under the furs still Dany asked, “Do you think that some magical Little Valyrian collects your boots and places them by the door, or do you just assume they walk there by themselves?”

“Well, one does, doesn’t she?” Jon replied, his eyes lighting up with mirth.

This time, Dany pulled the furs down so that he could have a clear view of her tutting at the idea of being compared to a Qohorian lemur. “Well,” she mimicked, moving to be within an inch of his face, “ _ this _ Little Valyrian is starting to not be able to bend down as well, so the magical Northman in this house better learn how!”

Jon snorted. “I’m sorry,” he said with the least amount of sincerity possible. He leaned forward so that their noses were now touching, frustratingly reminding Dany of the considerable length since they last lain together and sending a flush through her. Looking into his eyes made hers flutter, and instinctively she leaned in closer to brush her lips against his. The touch was delicate, and she felt herself beginning to sink into blissful nothingness, a pleasant buzzing in her head as if wine had washed over it, when Jon moved his lips in response before murmuring, “Will kissing the Little Valyrian suffice as an apology or would you like me to find you a banana?”

“Are you ki-”

“Dany?” Enda’s voice interrupted Dany’s retort and both she and Jon jumped apart, turning to look at the girl in oversize nightclothes standing behind them. “I - uh - I think Rose’s clout needs to be changed?”

Jon cleared his throat and stood up. “I can do that,” he muttered, and Dany could see that he, too, had turned red.

~

They had just finished their porridge when, for the second time that morning, the door banged open. This time, however, it took a little longer to close. And nobody carelessly discarded their boots.

“Did you make extra?” Willa asked as she trooped in with Tormund and Kolla. 

Dany supposed, as she thought about how much she now preferred Enda’s interruptions to Willa’s, that she should be used to people entering her house at will. After all, Willa had done it nearly religiously since they arrived and Tormund followed suit. 

The sickness that had come so closely after building their house had made both Jon and Dany wary of locks. Very few travelers ever ended up in their area, in any case, and, spooked as Dany could get if she dwelled on their presence for too long, shadowcats did not have thumbs. So far, the only apparent downside of having an accessible house was, in fact, having an accessible house. Therefore, she continually presumed that interruptions were imminent and, as such, pointed Willa and Tormund in the direction of the pot over the hearth. 

Kolla, however, lingered back to place her bow and quiver by the door before taking a seat next to Enda. The girl, who had been chattering away up until this point, was now quite subdued when she glanced at her adoptive mother. “Best to move on, lark,” Kolla soothed, throwing a meaningful look Dany’s way which she plainly took as “I already talked to Willa.” 

“Going hunting, then?” Jon asked, looking up from feeding Rose. 

“Aye,” Kolla said. “It’s a nice clear day for hunting birds, which is exactly what the two of us need what with so much of the clan to feed.”

“Who else trades with you now that Tormund is back for Willa?” Dany asked.

“Half the clan’s been getting meat from Kolla,” Willa said thickly as she and Tormund made their way back over to the crowded table. “Most of our good fishers are still off with Ulf. And with everything else scarce now, Kolla is our best chance at meat. And Enda of course. She’s been coming along well with that too. Haven’t seen many girls her age who can shoot a moving target like that.”

Enda ducked her head when she heard the praise from Willa. Out of the corner of her eye, Dany saw Kolla pat the girl on the back. 

“Nobody else is bringing back food? During the rains, Jon said he saw Inniq out in the woods...”

Several scoffing noises came from around the table and Dany bit her lip, feeling rather stupid. Spearwivery wasn’t the only way of life, but it definitely helped socially.

“From what I’ve heard,” Tormund grunted, “he’s barely brought back an ermine. I’ve seen him hunt. Waiting for the kill to come to him, can’t even set a proper snare or shoot from a good distance. Whatever tribe taught him how to hunt never taught him how to adapt. Can’t hunt like that when nothing’s on the ground in front of you. Must’ve been one of those smaller groups from around Craster’s area. They never had to move around for food, always came to them. He looks like one of them, eh,  _ ástin _ ?” The man stroked his red beard thoughtfully as if trying to remember the extinct tribes he spoke of. 

Willa shrugged in response. “I could never tell the difference between us once we started grouping together more unless they were cave dwellers. Even one tribe had all different colors of people from taking in orphans or absorbing each other. And we all sound the same now anyway,” she said with a nod in Dany’s direction, “even Dany’s losing her accent.”

“There was a lot more shuffling of people once the White Walkers came,” Jon said to a bemused Dany, who had really only gotten the free folk history in bits and pieces over the last couple of years. “A lot of traditions and languages were lost when the free folk were trying to survive.”

“Like hunting,” Kolla explained softly, “Most of us lived by following land prey, or lived off what was around our dwellings. When the Dead came, we just hunted what we could. My people - the true bird hunters - are all gone. Nobody else knew our ways. So it’s just Enda and I carrying on for now. It’s the safest hunting, anyhow. I can’t think of any predators around here anymore that go for birds. Or fowl. That’s why they’re pretty safe kills. Even a shadowcat scoffs at feathers.”

Dany’s mind had wandered while Kolla spoke. The talk made her think of the Dothraki once they had come together under her. With a sharp pang, she wondered how many traditions of individual  _ khalasars _ had been lost when she united them...and then led them to war. What were they like now? She knew from Tyrion and Sansa that there were some still alive who had left Dragonstone with Grey Worm, presuming their  _ khaleesi _ dead or gone. Had they stayed together under one leader or splintered off again? Had they adapted and survived like the free folk, or fought each other close to extinction?

For a while the only sounds were chewing from Willa and Tormund and Rose’s happy hunger noises. Enda was picking at her fingernails, while Dany’s eyes trailed away to glance at Drogon and Saphira’s egg over the mantle. It seemed to have just become a shining fixture of her household now, the way people stop smelling how distinct a place is if they live in it long enough. Whenever Drogon or Saphira flew overhead on as they took turns hunting, Dany would feel a familiar jolt of remembrance and guilt. Then the day would go on, and she would be distracted by the baby or Rose or Willa or Jon or any other number of occurrences that happened in her daily life. 

_ It’s not that I don’t want to help it _ , Dany told herself,  _ it’s just that I have no idea how. _ Still, the guilt was gnawing at her once more. Though, from more than just the egg.

“How’s Njal?” Dany finally asked, wrenching herself from her thoughts. She assumed he was on the mend, given Willa’s appearance here and the lack of a somber atmosphere, but there was no need to have anyone else feeling guilty as well. Enda looked up from her fingers.

Willa shrugged again. “Alive. Aspen’s with him. It looked worse than it was - I don’t know much about shadowcats, but I’d bet my lavender plant it wasn’t planning on actually killing him. The wounds weren’t deep -- honestly, it almost looked like it had been an accident if you’ll believe that. He’ll have those scars forever though. Maybe that’ll teach Inniq’s little scouts to think for themselves,” she finished darkly

Perhaps it was because Kolla noticed, as Dany did, that Enda had turned a pasty shade of white, but she abruptly stood up from the table and cleared her throat. “Well, we’d best get going if we’re planning to finish before dark,” she said, placing a hand on Enda’s shoulder to help her up. 

“We’ll walk out with you,” Willa said, also standing.

“You’re not staying?” Dany and Jon asked together. Dany frowned -- she was itching to hear about Tormund’s journey to the more western clans. 

The man nodded as if he had heard Dany’s thoughts. “Foraging. We’ll be back later,” he assured them at the door, without saying more. 

After the door had shut, leaving only the little family behind, Dany turned to Jon. He had gotten up to clear away what had been leftover from the eventful breakfast. “Did you get the feeling that we’re not being told something?”

“Hm - what?”

_ I’m being paranoid _ , Dany decided on seeing Jon’s complete indifference to what had transpired. She stood up and helped Rose out of the seat she had been placed in at the table, watching the girl toddle off on legs that grew steadier every day. 

These continued run-ins with their shadowcat neighbor had set her more on edge - whether or not it actually meant harm. Willa often told her that it was perfectly fine to feel more protective or stronger instincts while she was pregnant. She remembered some of that from Rose, but she had also walked across half of Westeros to escape her own rule as Queen and then built a life from absolutely nothing with Jon as part of the free folk. Paranoia had been a fair price to pay for that. After all, there were worse fates.

What reason did she have now? Perhaps it was, as Jon described the night before, that she knew exactly what she was worried about: a large cat that silently stalked the woods around her home, able to strip its chosen prey of flesh and marrow, that potentially attacked a boy for food or potentially attacked a boy accidentally. And then there continuing attempts to keep her people safe from being taken into slavery and her dragons safe from a similar fate. The nagging question of whether or not they were actually working beat at a constant rhythm in the background of her thoughts.

And then there was Inniq. 

His disfigured face swam in her mind, the four ragged scars a reminder of how determined he could be. If he fought like that for his snared fowl, what would he do for something seemingly so starkly opposed to his ideals?

_ Trying to hold on so tightly because he’d be loath to find another opportunity, _ Dany thought darkly, remembering what Tormund said about his hunting. 

Hunting...snares… “Jon?”

“Hm - what?” Jon said again, turning around. 

“Tormund said Inniq couldn’t set a snare.”

Jon raised his eyebrows. “Dany, I’d really prefer we just enjoyed our day instead of fretting about Inniq.”

“But if he can’t-”

“Dany,” Jon cautioned, walking over and putting his arms around her. He pulled her flush against him and pushed her long hair to one side. “Let’s not talk about this right now,” he murmured, pressing little kisses onto her neck as if to continue what had started hours before.

“Mm,” she sighed, tilting to give him more access.  She had warmed again. Heat radiated from within her, sparking with anticipation. But a new thought had pushed in next to her nagging anxieties.  _ If Inniq can’t set a snare, how could he have caught the fowl that ended with his scars? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, another chapter?
> 
> I have now had to fact check most of this story to make sure that none of the past conflicts with our current story because it's been evolving so much over the past six months or so, but some little threads are kind of weaving their way back in if you've begun noticed! Reviews are always appreciated :)
> 
> Two things:  
> Rytsas rūs is High Valyrian for "Hello baby."  
> ástin is a Nordic word for something along the lines of "my love" that can be said between husband & wife. This one I'm a little murky on whether or not it's entirely correct, so if anyone knows please comment!


	56. The Secret Spring

There was something about the anticipation of lovemaking. The way two people could know exactly where they would be that night. They could feel the memories from their last time together. Where hands had curled into hair or pulled hips closer together. Where kisses had burned a glorious path down necks and torsos, up ankles and legs, and bruised lips with heated passion that toed the line of ravenous need. They could hear whispered promises past of want and love, and could await that fleeting moment when the world melted away until it was just the two of them.

It was a wondrous feeling, anticipation. Second only to the actual act it preceded. Unfortunately, Dany had not experienced the last part yet. 

Nothing in particular was to blame for this, in her irritated opinion, serious lack of intimate action. Although she would just as well reason that everything was to blame. Tormund and Willa returned after foraging that day as promised. While Tormund’s report on his journey was similar to Birger’s, they had talked well into the night.

“Whether or not the slavers coming here were a single event, this was the right plan,” Tormund assured a troubled Dany, who had voiced her concerns about the potential that she had overreacted in the wake of Dorand’s death. 

“Will everyone else think that, though?” she mused.

He shook his head. “Of course not. Doesn’t mean it’s not right. We’re all so stationary these days, news never gets around. We should  _ know _ each other. Whether or not there’s any threat to us or to our dragons, there’s no reason for us to go back to being strangers. In fact, there aren’t enough of us left to be strangers. If this plan is doing anything, Dany, it’s reminding the free folk of who we are again,” said Tormund proudly.

Dany continued that conversation with a lighter heart than before, smiling every time she remembered that Tormund had said “our” dragons, but by the time it was finished, any ideas she and Jon had had about how to spend the night dissipated in a wave of tiredness. Since then, she felt like they had not had a spare moment to ever revisit those ideas. 

The second day after Tormund’s return came Ulf’s. All of the group, as both parties before, still alive and well. With it came similar news: “It was not as if ice dragons were new and of course we should protect ourselves from slavers and any other invaders.” Life in Shadowedge had since been creeping back to normal, albeit quite a busy normal. The return of so many villagers meant many more conversations to have about the future of Dany’s plan, which she had no idea how to answer (“wait and see” sounded idiotic). It also meant great many more voices speaking out against Inniq’s vitriol. His “little scouts” had dwindled in numbers, and while in Shadowedge, Dany often saw him skulking nearby rather than boldly proclaiming his ideas about “exactly what to do with these beasts.” An increase in people had also seemingly driven the shadowcat away, and nobody had run across more tracks since Njal’s attack. Dany, however, could not shake the feeling she was still being watched from the woods.

Normalcy, and any conversations Dany had been trying to avoid, were then quickly interrupted by a horrible cough that had been plaguing Rose for nearly two weeks. Her daughter, Willa attested, sounded like a tiny seal pup from the western shores. Whatever a seal was, for Dany had never seen one (Tormund described it as a bald dog with fish feet, which seemed ridiculous), she decided that she never wanted to meet it, live near it, or hear it in any capacity. Her poor daughter stayed awake well into the night, whining and coughing without being able to settle down. Jon and Dany had taken turns sitting up with her, soothing her as their eyes briefly shut from abject exhaustion, only to be startled open by yet another coughing and wheezing fit. Their days were punctuated by grunts and mutters, and tempers flared easily. Any time at night spent together tended to involve moodily facing in opposite directions of each other.

Worked into this flurry was Dany’s continued insistence that Inniq was hiding something and Jon’s continued insistence that she drop it and focus on their real problems, as if a subdued and grumpy Inniq (who could not set a snare, but somehow snared a fowl and fought off a shadowcat for it?) was nothing but an annoying bit of mud on his boot. She was beginning to feel badly about being so dismissive of Jon and Willa’s earlier suspicions, but was equally as irritated that no one would listen to her now. 

After the latest incident involving carelessly discarded boots, cramping, and an audible mutter of annoyance from Jon (“for once, just stop your griping”), Dany had left her husband behind with Ghost and a few choice insults (“ _ tokikof _ ,” “ _ govak _ ,” “ _ Gwe kerikh yeri zhokwa nhare she yeri choyo _ ”) , and took Rose out to Embar. She didn’t care if it was reckless, if it was snowing, or if the resident shadowcat she was sure was still around could leap out and eat the three of them. They weren’t staying at home. 

Willa wore an annoyed expression when Dany arrived at her door on horseback, windswept from galloping through the woods with one hand wrapped tightly around an amused Rose, but she said nothing as she helped her friend off of Embar and led her inside.

“Dany - Dany! Did you hear anything I just said?”

Dany started awake, blinking rapidly to try and make sense of where she was. “Hm, yes. No - I mean - what did you say?”

Pursing her lips, Willa replied, “I  _ said _ that Rose sounds much better today. I was going to ask if you guys were getting more sleep, but you answered my question.”

Unabashedly, Dany stretched in her seat as if to illustrate the point. “She coughs more at night. Anway, even when I’m not sitting with her I can’t sleep.” She paused for a moment, watching Rose playing on Willa’s bed. “Willa,” she asked, not really sure why she was even talking, “is it possible to feel exhausted and completely anxious and frustrated at the same time?”

Willa smirked. “Those words could have several meanings,” she replied. “As your healer, I could use more information.”

“Stop being so nosy,” grumbled Dany. She folded her arms over herself, resting them on her belly and feeling the baby kick. 

The cramping was still mildly uncomfortable, but if Dany was being completely honest with herself, it wasn’t the cramping that was really bothering her. Physically, she felt absolutely decimated and unable to recover. For the first time in quite a while, she desperately missed heat. It had been so long since she felt anything warmer than a fire in the hearth or Jon’s body next to hers in bed. She yearned to feel the blaze against her skin that came from a beating desert sun, to break out in a sweat again that didn’t run cold later. The more into her pregnancy she went, the greater the need for true heat seemed to become. 

A knock echoed in her thoughts. Dany’s eyes refocused as Willa hopped up to answer her door. 

“I don’t think she wants to see you right now,” she said to the doorway. Leaning to stare around her friend with narrowed eyes, Dany saw a snowy Jon standing outside.

He muttered something in response to which Willa replied, “Your choice, I suppose,” and allowed him inside. 

“Papa!” Rose exclaimed gleefully upon seeing her father.

“Hi, my Rosie!” Jon greeted his daughter, brushing long, brown curls away from her smiling face. He stopped when he saw his wife watching. “Dany, I-”

“Willa was right,” Dany remarked icily. “Why didn’t you just wait?”

“Because…” he reached out to touch her cheek and she shifted away. Jon sighed exasperatedly and dropped his hand. Eyes still narrowed, Dany surveyed him coldly and watched as he looked up at the ceiling and rolled his eyes. “Give this a rest, Dany. Here, see?” he thrust something at her, “Just go along with me for a minute, okay?”

In his outstretched hand was a winter rose from outside their barn. The bush had stayed in bloom since Rose was born, even through the harsh changes of weather they’d had. Despite herself, Dany smiled as she brushed her fingers over the delicate blue petals, remembering the last time Jon had given her a rose like this. Eyes now round instead of narrowed, she looked at him and then to Willa, who waved an errant hand at the couple. “Go on, then,” she said brusquely, biting her lip to contain what Dany knew was a knowing smile, “I think I can look after your daughter for an afternoon by now.”

~

“I found this a week ago with Kolla when she was teaching me her hunting style. I was waiting to tell you for when you could actually enjoy it. But now seemed like a good time too,” Jon explained, hand-in-hand with Dany as he led her through the faint beginnings of the foothills north of Shadowedge. The trees were sparse here, and it was quieter than in the woods. Dany supposed that less critters liked to make their home in an area with such little shelter.

After another few minutes of walking uphill, Jon stopped in front of a low, rocky ridge. “Do you see it?” he asked.

Dropping his hand as if it would help her eyesight, Dany squinted at the landscape, unsure of what she was supposed to be looking for.  _ Except...that looks off, _ she thought, her eyes coming to rest on an odd dip a ways ahead of them. If their months of travel through Westeros had taught her anything, it was how to spot shelter.

Although she was still partially determined not to speak with him, his palpable excitement was infectious. “Is that a cave?” Dany asked, a little incredulous given how few she knew existed in these parts.

Jon tilted his head side to side and said, grinning mysteriously, “Sort of…” He took her hand again and led her towards the dip. 

It was definitely a cave. A bit of nostalgic giddiness began to take over, and the spring that seemed to have left Dany’s step ages ago had suddenly returned. Jon slowed when they reached the entrance, and guided Dany to step down. 

“Careful,” he said, “it’s a little slippery.”

As she made her way through the mouth of the cave, Dany leaned back to make up for the steep path. It was slippery. Instead of being icy like so many other paths around their home, it was wet, as if a fresh rain had recently come instead of these consistent flurries. 

Being immersed in the pitch dark of a cave was surprisingly relaxing. Unable to see, Dany allowed her other senses to wander freely. She could hear Jon beside her, smell the damp air, feel the shift in temperature from the frozen land above. It felt...pleasant. 

“Why is it so warm?” she whispered to him, as if not to disturb the complete and utter still.

“You’ll see,” he replied. He took her hand and brought them further inside, his fantastic memory for land confidently guiding him in the darkness. 

Soon the cave opened up into a wider chamber with a low ceiling. A tiny stream of light was filtering in from somewhere above them, casting a soft glow that outlined the different rock formations and reflected on a steaming surface in front of them. Jon let go of her hand and melted away from sight, though Dany could hear him knocking something together behind her. 

“Aha,” said Jon triumphantly, stepping back from a small fire that began to give the room an orange hue and fill it with shadows. It, too, reflected on the steaming surface of what Dany could now see was a pool of clear water much like an over-large bath. 

Puzzled, but also very keen on the discovery of hot water, she turned back to Jon and cocked her head. “Hot water? In the middle of the North?” 

“Not common, but there’s a few places like this. It’s safe to use, not flesh-boiling or anything,” he said. Looking a bit sheepish, he added, “I thought - you know, with these past few weeks and how you’ve been feeling - it might help a little…with things.”

“And how have I been feeling?”

“Dany, you’re by far the strongest person I know. But if these weeks have been taking a toll on me, who’s not pregnant, I can’t imagine what they’ve been doing to you.”

Dany smiled, brimming with a wave of affection for her husband. She walked back to him and wrapped her arms around him as tightly as possible. “Thank you,” she murmured into his chest.

“Go on, then,” he whispered into her hair.

With possibly the least amount of decorum she had ever managed, given her eagerness to feel  _ actual _ hot water, Dany stripped down to nothing but her skin and tiptoed over to the edge of the water. Noticing that she had not been followed, she turned to look at Jon again. For a second, he wore a peculiar expression on his face, as if he was lost in a far away memory.

“Coming?” she asked, breaking his trance and watching him give his head a shake.

“Aye. Aye, I am,” said Jon, quickly pulling off his own clothes and crossing over to Dany.

The first step into the water was delightful, followed by a second step of bliss. As she sunk down onto a submerged rock, feeling the heat envelop her, Dany wondered how she could not possibly be dreaming. Water that couldn’t get cold, skin that didn’t prickle when it felt the air. Her husband sliding into the water behind her, wrapping his arms around her and cradling their baby as he kissed her neck. 

Only one word stayed in her mind, the name for this incredible feeling of revival: perfection. 

Heat was seeping into her soul and she took to it like a sapling stretching towards the sunlight. Closing her eyes, Dany could picture a warm summer day in a bright garden, where the pointed leaves of a lemon tree drifted lazily in the midst of a breeze. The house, however, was not made of stone or red doors, but was a little brown one made of wood. With Jon’s furs hung outside and Embar grazing on the tough lichen front. Smoke came out of the strangely-angled chimney and she could just hear a child’s laugh from inside followed by a father’s low, husky voice. Even in the sunlight, a nice layer of snow lay on the ground around the house, the familiar beaten path to the door still etched upon it.

“Mmm,” she sighed, leaning back into Jon’s embrace and tilting her head on his shoulder. She felt as he pulled one hand out of the water to stroke her nose. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked softly, now tracing over the lines of her face.

“Home,” she breathed, eyes still closed, enjoying the beautiful picture in her mind.

Jon’s fingers paused on one cheek and he absently brushed away a stray hair. “Do you miss it, Dany?”

At this, Dany’s eyes fluttered open and she reached up to stroke Jon’s cheek as well, smiling. “How can I miss it?” she asked, locking her eyes with his, “I’m here every day.”

“I meant-”

“You mean do I miss Essos?” Jon nodded, still brushing away the same hair. Softly, she sighed again and molded herself to him even more. “No, I don’t,” she said truthfully, “I miss being warm sometimes - a lot, lately. Warm without getting cold later. But  _ this _ is still my home. And getting to share hot water  _ at _ my home  _ with _ my husband is quite possibly my idea of perfection.

“And,” she added in a dropped tone, turning around to face Jon and straddle him as gracefully as possible, “this is as well.”

She kissed him. Full of intention and unbridled fervor. Twining her fingers in his hair, she tried to put a lot of unsaid things into this kiss as well; like apologies for her earlier string of insults. She could tell, as Jon wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up to position them both, that he was doing the same.  _ Forgiven _ , she kissed,  _ I love you and everything is forgiven _ .

And when they were joined, clinging to each other with concupiscent desire, Dany amended her idea of perfection. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More research about hot springs went into this chapter than I care to admit, but let's go with a perfect temperature for the human body "wild" underground hot spring is very unusual and this is definitely a work of fiction. Also, if you thought this was reminiscent of Jon and Ygritte, Jon did too.
> 
> Dothraki for this chapter:  
> “Tokikof": Idiot   
> “Govak”: Fucker   
> “Gwe kerikh yeri zhokwa nhare she yeri choyo”: Go stick your big head up your ass  
> ...Dany wasn't happy.
> 
> I was reading another fic and wondered, would it be better to put the translations directly into the chapter or do you feel like that would break the rhythm?


	57. The Face in the Woods

“It’s going to be a boy.” 

“I’m telling you you’re wron--ouch!”

Jon sucked his finger into his mouth, eyes watering while Dany snorted. He had been abysmally trying to darn his own shirt, intent on giving her as much time as possible to rest. Her swollen feet were propped up on his knees as he sat with her at the edge of their bed. The baby was more active now, visibly kicking inside her. Only about a month out from when she was due to give birth, according to Willa, Dany was quite ready to not be pregnant anymore.

Her ankles hurt. Her back hurt. She missed being able to walk normally. Or sleep on her stomach. Or bend down, or go for longer than a couple hours without needing to relieve herself, or just sleep through the night just  _ once _ . She wanted to be able to sit on the ground and play with Rose and Ghost then stand up again easily. More than anything, she also just wanted to meet their child. In the crawling meantime, however, she was being treated to Jon’s continued efforts to make her as comfortable as possible. And the entertainment that came with their banter and his awful attempts at darning. 

“And how do you  _ really _ know?” she teased, resuming their argument about the baby.

“Dany,” Jon replied good-naturedly, albeit strained, a twisted smile over his features as he again tried to properly stitch the way she’d showed him, “this  _ is _ something I’m - fuck, Seven Hells!” That earned him a scolding stare - Rose had only recently settled down in her room. 

Dany had never seen someone have as much issue with a needle and thread before, though Willa had assured her that Tormund was just as bad. “Woe to men for being cursed with overly large fingers with which to handle tiny needles,” the healer had lamented mystically, giggling. 

At least he was trying. “Damn this stitch,” Jon muttered, ignoring his wife’s glare, before continuing his thought on the certainty of a daughter. “I don’t know how to explain that I know it, love. But when I close my eyes at night, it’s all I see anymore. It’s just become so constant in my thoughts, you know?” 

She hesitated to answer, glancing at Ghost, who was occupying Jon’s side of the bed, fascinated by the strange movements inside Dany as if he was seeing it anew again. His red eyes widened every time her belly moved, so much like before Rose was born. The baby kicked again, much stronger than before, and he jerked his massive head up, looking at Dany as if to check that she was aware something was inside her.  _ Believe me _ , she thought,  _ I definitely am.  _ Reaching over to him, she smoothed the white fur on the top of his head as she answered Jon. “I know,” she said quietly, pressing her hand into Ghost’s deep fur, “but it’s bad luck to plan ahead like this, isn’t it?”

Jon frowned. Setting the shirt off to the side with a dark glare at it, he instead began rubbing the sole of Dany’s right foot. They sat in silence for a few moments, her comment lingering in the air. “You’re nervous again,” he observed without pretense, pressing his thumb into her arch and sliding it up towards her toes.

She shrugged noncommittally, moaning involuntarily as the muscles in her foot relaxed under his capable hands. In another time, this would have been an enjoyable way to spend the evening, but the light atmosphere of banter had evaporated with her words, replaced with a precarious weight balanced over their heads. Everyone knew what kind of world they were bringing children into. Cold and harsh, with one threat defeated and quickly replaced with another. Life went on - Rose’s arrival had proved that before - and yet Dany could not shake the lingering voice in the back of her mind that she would never be allowed to be this blessed. The gods, whoever they were, had never seen fit to smile upon her for long.

“Does it ever get easier?”

“No,” said Dany honestly, “has it gotten easier for you?” What was it like to watch your wife bear this and know that you could do nothing but wait, watch, and massage her feet?

“Not really,” Jon replied. “But Rose is here. She isn’t...I haven’t…”

“Lost a child,” Dany finished immediately. The words surprised her - she had not realized that was what he meant. Actually, she had not even realized that was where her thoughts were stemming from. And yet she suddenly knew what this weight was, this continual fear of bad luck the free folk must be right about for it had happened before; it was as certain as Jon’s thoughts about three daughters. 

Her husband nodded, abashedly dropping his gaze down to her feet again, now giving the left one similar attention. The comment was hanging in the air again, suffocating her, forcing her to heave an enormous effort just to keep it at bay. 

“Sometimes...” she croaked under the strain. Once more, Jon looked up, his hands halting their work. Dany bit her lip. She did not speak of Rhaego often; or at all. Her first child had been walled off in her memories with the rest of her past life’s suffering. With the rest of Daenerys. She could feel it breaking through sometimes: in Willa’s eyes, on the beach, when she sent out parties to destroy the pathways from the cliffs...but she quickly added more mortar each time they did. 

And yet when their baby kicked again, light as it did that time, she felt her layers of mortar and stone crack. When she locked eyes with Jon, those gray eyes that she had looked to for escape in her darkest hour, she couldn’t stop the stones from tumbling down. “Sometimes I don’t even think about it,” the words scrambled out of her mouth, “Any of it. It’s like...when you forget you have a scar, even though when you got injured you were sure it would always be the first thing on your mind.” 

Acting as if out of habit, Jon lifted one hand and rubbed his chest. His eyes were unfocused, staring behind Dany like he was watching a memory unfold. One that she never wanted to witness. Instinctively, she brought a hand over her belly, soothing both herself and the baby. “But then the baby stays too quiet,” she continued, watching him look at her again, “Or I wake up at night and can’t feel anyone nearby...and I’m back in that tent. Or over that lake. In front of that gate. Just alone, lost. That...that will never get easier. And it terrifies me.” 

At her words, Jon had jerked his hand to take the one she had on her stomach, nearly gripping it too tightly, his gaze branding her. He didn’t say anything, nor did she want him to, but she understood. He understood. The tiny foot kicked again.

~

Rose’s illness had all but cleared up. Aside from the occasional cough (which sounded as if she were politely trying to ask for attention), she was completely back to normal and, in turn, had become rather rambunctious. It was with a pang of wist one night, while watching Rose teasing a good-natured but very resigned looking Ghost, tickling his big paws, that Dany realized her baby was now rapidly approaching her second nameday. Soon she would have a new name and be recognized as a full member of the free folk. She would grow up, so differently from her mother and father, surrounded by a family and a people who loved her. She could become anything she wanted: spearwife, healer, mother, hunter, wanderer… everything at once. Dany vowed silently to never let her know the suffering and pain that had defined her parents. Rose would know nothing but freedom.

_ None of them will _ , Dany thought, absently placing her hands upon her swollen belly as she waddled through the dry woods. 

The air was parched for liquid. 

Willa attributed Rose’s slow recovery from her illness to the rapid changes in weather over the past month. First it was cold and snowy, then the snow gave way to an icy rain that left the entire wood looking like it was encased in glass. A sudden turn of warmth then melted the ice to water; it drew channels in the snowy ground as it snaked downhill and filled the Antler to the point that waves slopped lazily over the rocks on its banks. Now that, too, was gone. The world was brittle, like a warmer version of the dry freeze from a couple months prior. Stinging winds ripped through the trees and shards of snow lay upon the ground in place of the normal thick blanket of powder.

Jon said that spring was snapping at the heels of winter now. Willa said that this was just winter making a last ditch effort to keep its hold on the North. Tormund and Kolla spoke of good hunting returning, while Ulf grunted about “some more foliage to look at for a change.” Old Dryn complained about his bones aching and Shadowedge’s children quivered with excitement at the thought of their first change of season.

Dany regarded all these comments with quiet disbelief. 

Raw-faced and frozen, she was grudgingly following Willa north of her home on an expedition to find any new growths of herbs and edibles in the so-called “thawing” woods. Admittedly, they had been successful so far. Ghost trotted at her heels. While the shadowcat seemed to have disappeared from this part of the woods, Jon still insisted Ghost come with them today instead of going hunting. He had left with Tormund and Kolla early, while Enda had stayed behind to keep an eye on Rose. Ulf was with Nerell. At least, he was looking for Nerell. Since being banned from “scouting” after Njal’s attack, the young boy was making a habit of daily disappearances. The other boys led astray had been easy to quell and redirect after news of Njal spread around. Five jagged pink, puckered scars across Njal’s torso from where the shadowcat had curled its claws around him - playful or malicious - was enough to make anyone easily malleable. Except Nerell, apparently.

Still thoroughly (albeit privately given the amount of rolled eyes she had endured) suspicious of Inniq, Dany was intently worried about the lies that Nerell had been told. She knew the basic idea now; the latest outburst that Dany had heard of that morning concerned Nerell shouting at Enda, who was excitedly talking about spending time with Rose.

“All you care about is your  _ new _ family!” Nerell had spat at her suddenly.

Affronted, Enda had stammered out “what?” but Nerell erupted from the table. “We would still have Pa if people just stayed where they belonged!” he shouted, not letting anyone else get a word in edgewise before he had slammed the door and run. Ulf, shaking his head hopelessly, had watched Nerell disappear into the Haunted Woods. 

“It ain’t Dorand an’ Astrid who taught him that, ‘cause Enda here knows better,” Ulf said gruffly when he arrived with the rest at Dany and Jon’s home that morning. “Not the free folk way. Not  _ their _ way. If we just stayed where we belonged,” he nodded to Dany and Jon, “we would’ve been extinct a long time ago.” Then, refusing help to look for his adopted son so as not to waste anyone’s time (Nerell had turned up every night of a disappearance so far), Ulf nodded his goodbyes, kissed his wife, and left towards the south.

“Bearberries, Dany!” Willa suddenly shouted, breaking Dany’s reverie and causing a hare to erupt squeaking from a snow-covered bush. Seizing the opportunity, Ghost dispatched the skinny creature with deft ease.

He looked proudly at Dany, prize dangling from his jaws, and whined gently. 

“Good boy,” she murmured before turning on Willa, who was greedily pulling the red berries off a plentiful bush. The weather had definitely been good to the forest’s plants, whether or not Dany actually found it milder. “You know,” said Dany coolly, “if you yell louder, your herbs may pick themselves.”

“Ha ha,” Willa replied, making sure to set her golden stare on Dany before rolling her eyes. “Well don’t come to me to have your bread sweetened, then. Here, pass me the basket again.”

Dany trundled up to Willa and slid the already laden basket she was carrying off her arm to set it in front of her friend. Straightening up, she folded her arms over her chest and watched as Willa put the fruits of her labor into a pouch she had taken from the basket. Another gust of wind tore through the trees, shaking weaker needles from the firs and carrying a few stray weirwood leaves to lands beyond. This time, however, the wind beat down upon the land below, rather than across. Dany glanced up just as the large, black shadow flew overhead. Drogon. 

“Why’s he going out to sea?” Willa asked, having stood up to watch the massive dragon fly towards the east.

“He misses it,” Dany answered with certainty, “and it’s a good change in landscape.”

“You sound very sure of that,” her friend remarked as they began walking again, opposite the direction in which Drogon had flown off. Both women continually raked their eyes over the landscape for any sign of color. Ghost, emboldened by his kill, had trotted off sniffing for more prey. 

“I could use a change right now too, given that I have to wait to use that spring again,” said Dany, words tinged with mild acerbity. Healer’s orders, Dany couldn’t use the hot spring Jon had found until after the baby was born.

Ignoring her, Willa stooped to look under a particularly broad bush, but grunted with disappointment. “And yet you don’t seem to like  _ this _ change of scenery,” she said, gesturing haphazardly.

“What gave it away?”

“You may think Jon’s face never lies, my friend, but your eyes give up more than deer tracks on an open plain.”

Dany shrugged. “My feet hurt,” she replied baldly.

Willa squinted at a few mushrooms growing on the side of a larch. “Hmm, not quite yet,” she muttered. “And?”

“And it’s...cold,” Dany replied, feeling both lame and extremely petulant as the words left her. They were, however, completely truthful. It was, she grudgingly admitted, for the most part warmer than it had been in months - maybe even years - and yet Dany could not shake the heavy chill that had settled inside her. Restless as she was, memory strong of what it felt like to be cooped up before Rose was born, all Dany wanted to do was cocoon herself in every fur she and Jon possessed and sit as close to their hearth as possible. 

It seemed as though Willa was reading her thoughts. “You weren’t like this with Rose,” she said, frowning. “Or even a few months ago. And it was colder then.”

“I know,” said Dany, frustratedly looking skyward. “It’s like…” She trailed off, knowing what she wanted to say.  _ What a stupid thought _ , she scolded herself. 

“Like what?” Willa prompted. They had stopped walking now. Dany knew that if they kept going, they would come upon the clearing where Saphira was most likely nesting with Nutmeg and Lavender. They were bigger the last time she saw them, comparable, she considered with a wrench of nostalgia in her gut that she was quick to force back, to Drogon and his brothers during their time in Astapor.

“No, it’s stupid,” she said, trying to walk off again, “You’ll laugh.  _ I’ll _ laugh. I’m just frustrated, that’s all it is.”

Willa gripped Dany’s elbow, her eyes now serious. “No, tell me, Dany. As your healer, tell me.”

Heaving an enormous sigh, Dany’s face pinched into a wince as she explained. “I just wonder...Rose loves the cold. She’s so  _ Northern _ , like Jon is. She even looks it. So, maybe, well, maybe I’m feeling this way because this baby is a little more like...me.”

“Eh?”

“Tar--warm-blooded,” she amended.  _ Silver-haired and pink-faced _ . “Maybe this baby likes the heat more. Like a different sort of craving than food. So I’m feeling the cold more than last time.”

It seemed as though Willa was still unconvinced, for she pursed her lips, her golden eyes uncomfortably scrutinizing Dany. “Hmm,” she finally said, “unusual. Though, not something that I--” She cut off, leaning to look into the trees past Dany, who watched as her friend’s hand slipped down to the knife on her belt. 

The familiar feeling of pricked hairs on her neck was back. They weren’t alone.  _ Come on, Ghost _ , _ come back _ , she thought desperately, mind going to a place of tearing claws and silent paws stalking the woods. It was supposed to be gone. There hadn’t been a sighting of the shadowcat in weeks, though the clan still insisted that everyone travel and hunt in pairs. And yet here she and Willa were with a basket of bearberries, a dead hare, and two small knives. Pairs would not do them much good. 

“You know we can see you!” Willa called to the woods in a clipped tone, “Quit skulking!” 

The healer’s eyes were blazing and Dany whipped around to see not a shadowcat, but the scarred and scowling Inniq slowly emerging from the woods. Clearly, he had not listened to the rule about pairs. A quick once-over told Dany that he was barely even equipped for hunting - in fact, she could not even tell if he was armed.  _ Though he probably is,  _ Dany thought, feeling the weight of her own knife in her boot.

“Is Nerell with you?” Willa asked harshly when Inniq had reached them.

“No.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“Why should I? ‘E was told not to see me, eh?” The mild smirk that crossed his brown, disfigured face contradicted him. 

If Willa noticed, she didn’t show it, instead sizing Inniq up before asking, “What are  _ you _ doing out here anyway? Hunting’s poor out here.”

“See you caught a hare,” Inniq replied. His dark eyes looked appraisingly upon the lean, white body Dany had tied to her waist.  

“Ghost caught it,” Dany told him. “Other than that, we haven’t seen anything to hunt.”

“Except for that dragon.”

“He’s  _ not _ for hunting,” she said bracingly. So that was how long he had been close by.

A sneer broached Inniq’s face, contorted even more by the four scars Dany counted across it. It was the first time she had ever been close enough to really see every detail of him. She held his black gaze unflinchingly, her own face the picture of stoic resolve.  _ I know you’re hiding something _ , she meant to communicate. His mouth flattened, the curved pink lines twisted strangely with his face and made him look more deranged than menacing.  _ At least Njal’s face was spared _ .

Dany’s eyes suddenly widened and she broke her stare as she took quick stock of Inniq’s face again. He turned to Willa. “Guess I’ll be off to the  _ better _ hunting, then,” he said smoothly. 

Watching as he turned away, hiding any mar to his appearance, though her mind was somewhere very far from the woods, Dany waited until Inniq was out of earshot before looking to Willa. 

“That useless boar’s ass has got a lot of fucking nerve following us,” Willa stated loudly, grandly gesturing at Inniq’s trail. “Did you catch how long he’s been there?”

“Willa, listen--”

“And you best believe he’s done this before! You said you’ve felt like something’s watching you. How much you wanna bet it was  _ him _ ?” 

“Willa, I--”

“And what in the fucking hells does he even think watching you’s gonna get him except for a load of queer looks when folks hear about it?”

“Willa!”

“ _ What, Dany? _ ” Willa snapped, swinging her head around.

“He’s only got four scars on his face.”

“He’s gonna have a hell of a lot more when Tormund, Jon, and the rest of them hear about this!”

“No. I mean he’s  _ only _ got four. Njal has  _ five _ . It’s like I’ve been telling you and Jon, he’s lying about being attacked by a shadowcat!” Dany said almost manically. 

Tinkling echoed through the quiet woods when Willa shook her head confusedly. “What? What are you talking about, Dany?”

“I’m telling you that there’s more to him than just being an asshole. There’s something else, I know it! I mean, why else would he not have been at Winterfell during the battle with the Dead? Every last one of us were there.”

Willa snorted dismissively, taking the basket from Dany and turning back on the path. “Dany, look, I think you’re right and he’s lying, all right? But people lie. Inniq probably tried to steal an egg from the wrong bird or something else idiotic and wanted to try to sound impressive so he changed his story.”

“But--”

“And as for Winterfell,” Willa said over her shoulder, “I’m guessing he’s so useless that the Night King figured killing him wasn’t worth his time. Come on, there are other things to concentrate on, okay? Inniq’s not worth it. Go and call Ghost, let’s head back.”

Annoyed at being cut off yet again, Dany hesitated for a minute. It was so obvious to her that this was more than just a lie to impress. Her look at his face only proved it; and suddenly she couldn’t shake the suspicion that Inniq looked more familiar than she had thought before. If he hadn’t been at Winterfell, she had never met him before Shadowedge. Assumedly, he just looked familiar because, like everyone said, the free folk had become so mingled that the surviving bloodlines were all over the place. Plenty of people in Shadowedge had former clanmates now elsewhere in the North. Yet, there was something more nagging in her mind that she couldn’t name. 

She felt the baby start up kicking, as if to redirect her attention as well. Somehow, it was more convincing than Willa or Jon. Smoothing a hand over her belly, feeling each kick from her active child, she sighed. The baby was right, and Willa was right. There were definitely other things to concentrate on right now. 

Whistling to Ghost and seeing the large, furry mass bound over to her, she began to plod her way down the path to home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went through about six rewrites and got shunted to the side in favor of writing a grant and entering a contest, but here we are! I'm pretty certain there's a continuity error (at least a soft one) concerning Dany's observation of Inniq's face, so I'm going to go back and edit the old chapter to work with this one. 
> 
> One thing: I don't think I've ever mentioned that I treat the landscape our characters live in like it's the taiga, so it is possible to forage and the characters aren't wading through enormous snow-drifts forever. Most of the plants and trees I mention that Willa isn't solely growing in her home are native taiga plants (I've been trying to keep this as accurate as possible). 
> 
> Please enjoy, don't poke your fingers with needles, and let me know what you think!


	58. Signs of Life

“Mama? Mama! Mama, up!”

A small, clammy hand was repeatedly patting Dany’s cheek. There was light in front of her eyelids. It was much too bright. Why was it bright? Hadn’t she just gone to sleep a moment ago?

“Up! Up!”

“Mmm, no,  _ ēdrugon. Ziry iksos nykeēdrosa ēdrugon jēda. _ ”

“Mama, _bē_!”

Dany opened her eyes to tired slits. Her daughter was sitting in front of her, tiny hand still patting her mother’s cheek, looking quite pleased with herself. At another time, Dany would have been pleased as well. Rose’s language had progressed very well, not only in Common Tongue but also in Valyrian. She tended to speak to her parents in a broken mix of both, using whichever word she could find first. Like her mother, however, she always switched to Valyrian when frustrated. 

“ _ Lo nyke līs _ ,” Dany sighed, gently removing Rose’s hand from her face. Slowly, she rolled from her side to her back. Her left hand brushed against something more than rumpled furs next to her.  _ For a bed with one of its occupants missing _ , thought Dany,  _ it’s quite crowded _ . She rolled her head to the left and found a large, black-padded back paw mere inches from her nose. The direwolf it belonged to, she saw enviously, was dreaming. His toes were flexing as he slept, as if he were balancing on something slippery. 

Smiling to herself, Dany turned her head back to look straight up and stretched her arms back, feeling wakefulness begin to flood through her. It did not do much to help with the lingering fatigue, the feelings simply seemed to overlap rather than one banishing the other.  _ And it’s because of  _ you, _ little one, _ she thought, looking down at her quiet, swollen belly. Clearly Ghost and the baby had the same thought about how to spend their morning. 

“Mama!” huffed Rose.

“I’m here, Rosie. Mama just needed a second to wake -- Rose!” Dany gasped as she looked to see her daughter wobbling dangerously over top of her, having stood up on the lumpy bed. She toppled, Dany froze.

“Oh, don’t wanna do that, Rosie!”

Dany peeked out from her wince to see that Jon had suddenly appeared overtop of them, now holding onto Rose, whose violet eyes were wide with excitement at the sudden occurrence of events. Beneath his beard, the kiss of cold was visible upon Jon’s cheeks. “Busy this morning?” she asked.

“Sorry, I thought she’d sleep a little longer in bed with you. I took Embar for a ride,” said Jon, shifting Rose onto his hip before leaning down and kissing her sweetly. It filled her with warmth and ended much too quickly as Jon turned away to set Rose on the floor.

“All quiet?”

“Unless you count the wind,” Jon replied evenly as he shed his outer layer. 

This discussion, in varying forms of the same, had become a tradition recently. True to her word, Willa had wasted no time telling Jon and Tormund about the encounter she and Dany had in the woods with Inniq. Surprisingly, Tormund was the voice of calm amidst the angry cursing that ensued.

He had placed his hands on her shoulders from behind, rubbing them as he spoke gently. “Shh,  _ ástin _ , quiet yourself.” Gesturing to Dany, he said more in his normal standards of gruffness, “We have no way of knowing for certain that it’s been him all along. Folks have always felt watched in the woods. Just because the Dead are gone doesn’t mean that feeling stops.” 

Peripherally, Dany saw Jon nodding and wondered if he was remembering his past ventures as Tormund continued. “ _ But,  _ I believe you, Dany. That you think someone’s been around. We can’t be wild about it this time, though, not now,” she saw his eyes flick infinitesimally, but it was too quick to see where they went. She slid a hand over her stomach and felt Jon settle one on her hip as well. “I’m not of the mind to run anyone out of our clan without more proof, even if they are as useless as that speck of mold,” Tormund said darkly, “But, gods help me, I swear if you’re right, that fucker will wish he had never been created.”

Willa still looked like an angry lioness, and Dany could see Jon grinding his jaw, but she could not help but agree with the red man. Tormund’s just words had echoed her earlier decision and appealed to the values she once prized herself on: there were other things to concentrate on right now, and she had no true proof.

As a result of this conversation, Jon walked the periphery of their clearing every morning and evening. He never really explained the decision to Dany, but she had no qualms. Her own nagging suspicions about Inniq, forcibly shunted to the side for now, though they reared their head quite often, had been kept out of the discussion.  _ No use in seeing their disbelieving faces anymore _ , she decided sourly. 

Jon had taken off his boots and placed them properly by the door. “Breakfast or daughter?” he asked her, dropping a kiss onto her nose.

“I think you’d best wrangle her this morning,” said Dany, pushing herself upright and shifting to dangle her legs off the bed. “Not sure I can-- ooh.” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a second. 

Before she opened them, Jon had brushed his hand over her cheek, fingers caressing her gently. “I’m fine,  _ mahrazhkem _ ,” she said when she saw his worried face. “Do you remember these from last time?”

He sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Aye,” he murmured, “doesn’t mean I like watching you go through it.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, leaning her forehead against his. “Just means we’re closer to having the baby in our arms now.”

They stayed, foreheads together, taking in each other, until the sound of little feet pattered from behind Jon. “MM!” Rose demanded. One more kiss placed on Dany’s hair, and then he turned around to pick up his daughter.

~

Dany lay on her bed, half-naked and pricked with cold, looking up at the ceiling and fantasizing about lying in a sun-lit meadow full of lazy, waving grasses, as Willa peered between her legs. “Not too long now,” she said, popping out from behind Dany’s stomach in a frighteningly disembodied way. 

“Please move,” said Dany, shutting her eyes and waving her hand rapidly, “it looks like I’ve given birth to you.”

Chuckling, Willa shifted away and straightened up, handing Dany her trousers. “Jon said your contractions were starting when he came into the village yesterday,” she told Dany casually. 

“The false ones,” Dany corrected, endearingly thinking of how confident Jon must have sounded relaying the news. “They started a few days ago, although I think that’s just them becoming noticeable.” 

“Aye, I figured that’s what he meant, not blaming him -- can’t know the difference if you haven’t felt it. Still, I think I’ll come every day now, okay?”

Dany nodded as she pulled her trousers up and adjusted her clothes more comfortably. Ever at home here, Willa strode over to the hearth area and began filling a pot with water. “Tea?” she asked, producing an aromatic pouch from her person.

“You know where everything is. I’ll be back,” said Dany, waddling over to the door where her boots lay alone. 

Helpfully, Jon had hitched up Ghost and taken Rose with him by sled to check on the snares today. “Might as well make use of the weather,” he’d said. Despite all her disbelief and personal chill, even Dany had to admit that it was indeed getting warmer. The air was wetter, but it had the fresh taste of growth now rather than the bitter chill of barren snowscapes. Outside, as she made her way to the back of the house, Dany could see the visible signs of change. Darkened tree bark glinted in the sun, where fresh melt still clung to the rough surfaces. Somehow the leaves and needles had begun to look more vibrant, filling the woods with a brightness she would associate with Free Cities markets rather than the Haunted Woods. 

Their little house’s roof had several spots where water dripped onto the ground below, creating small, round poke-holes in the snow. As she exposed her lower half and shivered in the crisp air, precariously balancing in a squat with the aid of the small back fence line, she even noticed peeking shoots of green around a couple of the posts.  _ What a difference _ , Dany thought, remembering the horrible snow storm in which Rose had arrived. 

She wondered if this baby would actually be born in spring. There was no way of knowing for certain when one season ended and another began; no white ravens were sent out here to signal the change in season, just a few elders declaring the seasons were shifting. It was also quite possible no white raven would be sent out in the Seven Kingdoms, given that they were all still at war with each other, not even Seven Kingdoms any longer. Were maesters above that? Doubtful. Her nostrils flared in memory of that world, steeped in conflict and deceit, tearing itself apart. Nobody could be above  _ that _ . And yet, she still cared about many of the people bound to be in the thick of it. No word had reached them of how the North was faring. With everything that had happened, they had barely a moment to consider how to find out. But she knew she was not the only one in her family to have thoughts wandering south. Again, however, there were other things to focus on right now. They had left that world, and this unknown was the price they paid for their freedom.

Ruffled, she shook her head and rose from squatting, cleaning herself up before pulling her trousers up once more. 

Over steaming cups of Willa’s own tea mixture, a certain mix of spice and a flare of ice in the back of the throat, the two women sat at the small, hearthside table in comfortable silence. Dany alternated between sipping her tea, relishing at the warmth sliding down her throat, and rubbing a soothing hand over her active baby. 

Willa tilted her cup up to take another drink before remarking, “Enda asked yesterday whether or not the baby kicking was painful.”

“Not exactly comfortable now,” said Dany, though she smiled cheekily. “Why didn’t she come with you?”

“Trying to let her take on some more responsibility, so I left her to take care of the gash Birger got on his hand.” She drank from her cup again. “And,” she said into the cup, “I figured you might like one less pair of eyes examining you.”

Grateful, Dany nodded in agreement. “Though,” she said, tilting her head to one side, “she’ll have to learn this part of it at some point.”

“Oh, aye. Probably’ll bring her when this baby’s born just to keep an eye on Rose, if that’s all right?” Dany nodded again. “But I think she’ll have a few other chances soon to learn more.”

“Not from me for a while though. Told Jon last night I need a break,” said Dany.

Willa snorted into her drink. “With the way you and Jon are? Surprised there was such a break in between these two,” she told Dany, gesturing from Rose’s room to Dany’s belly and waggling her dark brows with a smirk. 

Blush seared her cold cheeks. “We’re not that overt,” she mumbled unconvincingly.

“ _ Sure _ .” Willa winked one golden eye glinting with mirth, and drank again.

Dany scowled, cheeks still burning. “Oh, knock it off, eh?” 

“Okay, all right,” said Willa, putting her empty cup down, her smile shifting from mischievous to knowing. 

“ _ What _ ?” Dany whined, feeling more thoroughly examined than when Willa had her half-naked.

“Your talking’s changed a lot.” Dany raised one eyebrow. “I mean,” said Willa, “you sound different -- not bad! -- just, more like one of us. Hells, you  _ are _ one of us, have been since we met. But, you know, before you used to sound more…”

“Kneeler?” Dany supplied. Willa chuckled again. 

“Aye,” she agreed, “or, maybe freer now?” 

Dany smiled, a lightness in her heart. “Freer sounds nice.”

~

Jon was speaking rapid Valyrian. In fact, everyone was. Dany kept walking in circles through a gray, decaying Shadowedge, Jon trailing behind her, trying to find her way out to get home. Rose was home, how could they have left her alone? They had to get home, but every time she turned around, the woods were behind her. 

“How do I get out?” she cried, unsure which language she was speaking, to every passing person, “Help me get out!” 

Nobody seemed to understand her. They kept babbling and pointing in several directions, grabbing and spinning her around and around so that she lost sight of Jon. Their words were Valyrian, but none of them could speak it properly. Their accents were wrong; she couldn’t even figure out what they were saying. Dizzy, the world spinning around her, Dany looked up to the colorless sky to right herself, only to see Drogon and Saphira whirling around each other in a tight, continuous circle. 

Suddenly, Drogon dove from the sky, thundering to the ground in front of her. Even her precious dragon was different, foreign. It was like she was seeing him as others did. The black terror opened his jaws wide, a deep rumbling sounding over all the chaos.

“It’s me!” she shouted at him, now panicked. “It’s me, Drogon!”

She could see the fire at the back of his throat and knew that, this time, she would not be able to walk through it.  _ Why? _ she prayed desperately,  _ Why is this happening? _ She could feel the chill of winter and the radiant, deadly heat of the dragon. She was shaking, trying to keep her eyes open, to watch death speed at her and face it to the last breath. The fire grew bigger, her eyes widened. 

In her ear, a voice sounded in clear Valyrian for the first time. She knew it. Cold, spiteful. “ _Bōsa glaesagon se dāria_.” She heard the roar of dragonfire.

“ _ Daor _ !” she screamed. The world was spinning, falling, crumbling. She did not feel raw heat, but biting cold. It felt as though she had been plunged into an icy lake, her chest heaving to get grab enough air. Her body was violently trembling, skin and clothes drenched and freezing. Color burst into her vision, sharply contrasted to before, but she still could barely see. 

Something grabbed her and she jumped with a yelp, nearly out of her own skin. A low, calm voice spoke to her in Common Tongue over the echoing last Valyrian words she had heard.  _ It was accented _ , she thought blearily. Her mind could not work out anything past that. “Easy, easy my love. It’s over. It’s over.” She allowed herself to be pulled close, strong arms wrapping around her as a weight knelt next to her in the bed. She was home.

“Jon?” she croaked, slowly able to focus on the warm chest she was being held against. For the first time, Dany noticed she was crying.

Her husband smoothed back her hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. She clung to him, her embrace shaky. As her breathing began to slow, her tears trickling away, Jon moved them so that they were reclining, with Dany lying on his chest. Looking around, she noticed that it was not quite pitch dark out yet. 

“Did I miss supper?” she asked quietly. 

“Hmm,” Jon replied, tracing the planes of her back, “I turned around and you were asleep. Thought it best to let you stay that way as long as possible. Rose is asleep. I was just getting ready to join you when...”

She could hear his frown as he trailed off. His hand moved to wrap over their baby as if he was trying to protect them both. “Dany…” he started carefully, “I know we never talk about the nightmares, that we just try to move on, but...this one scared me. You were screaming. I tried to wake you up and -- are you okay?”

Dany stayed silent for a minute. The Valyrian from her dreams was still ringing in her ears, setting her on edge with its ominous message.  _ Long live the Queen _ . Over his chest, she traced her fingers, mapping him, mapping the real. His hair, his skin, the oval birthmark that stained just over his left hip. Every telling scar, every time she could have lost him, even before she knew him. She owed him her life. And her self. 

Breathing deeply, she finally answered him. “It was like my whole world had reversed. Or gone backward,” she told him. “We were in Shadowedge - you were there - but it was dead. And everyone was speaking Valyrian, but I couldn’t understand it until the end. I don’t even know if I was pregnant. And we had left Rose, but I couldn’t find my way out of the village. Every time I turned around, it was just in a circle. And then Drogon was there, and he didn’t even know who I was. I thought...Jon, I thought I was going to die. I should have known it wasn’t real, but I just...couldn’t.” 

Her throat felt constricted again and she swallowed thickly. Perhaps Jon knew her tears were threatening to break through once more for her, held her even closer. “Shh, Dany, love. It  _ was _ a dream. Drogon could never forget his mother. And we’re all still here, safe. And speaking Common Tongue,” he added, playfully stroking her nose.

She looked up, giving him a watery smile. “Thank the gods for that,” she said. Shifting her position, meaning to curl even closer to Jon if possible, Dany felt the familiarly uncomfortable tightening in her stomach and made a short noise of protest. Her body still felt more sensitive from the nightmare. 

Jon stiffened. “Is it…?”

“No, love, not yet,” said Dany quietly, taking her turn to brush his nose as she breathed through the contraction. “I think soon, though.” She smiled again, and he returned it, leaning his head down to capture her lips. The kiss was soft, but felt almost urgent. When he tried to release her, she reached up and wound her fingers through her hair to keep him in place, suddenly acutely desperate for him. He came willingly, his grip around her tightening and the kiss deepening. Finally, when every last piece of her screamed for air, they broke apart, panting. 

“I love you,” she breathed, letting go of his hair to gently scrape her fingers through his scalp. “More than I have ever loved anything else in this world. You know that, right?.”

“And I you,” Jon told her, kissing her hair. “Whatever fears you have, I’ll always be here to face them with you. I swear it.”

He shifted, nestling them both into bed more. “Rest now,” he murmured, “tomorrow you may have some work to do.”

Dany nodded against his chest, closing her eyes as Jon resumed tracing along her back. There was no feeling of the pull of sleep yet, but her mind was slowly draining to blank. She relished in the peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of a spread out chapter, with a lot of Dany sleeping which was initially unintentional. Bit of a longer list of translations for you today, all in Valyrian. I like to think that when Dany gets tired, she starts speaking in Valyrian more.
> 
> "ēdrugon. Ziry iksos nykeēdrosa ēdrugon jēda" - "Sleep. It's still sleep time."  
> "bē!" - "up!"  
> "Lo nyke līs." - "If I must."  
> "Bōsa glaesagon se dāria." - "Long live the Queen." (a nice(?) Lion King vibe for tonight!)  
> "Daor!" - "No!"
> 
> Anyone else watching the SheBelieves Cup? (aka, I spend a lot of writing time watching soccer)


	59. A Shift in the Air

Time crawled. It was as if it had been laden with enough weight, just as Dany felt for herself, to hinder its pace. Every time someone spoke to Dany, be it Jon or Willa or Kolla or even Tormund, their line was, “Any day now! Any day now!” And yet “any day now” had not made an appearance. Each hour of existence crept by without a sign that the baby was ready to greet the world. Dany continued to have irregular contractions, each marked with a short jolt of her heart and then a sigh when they felt the same as last time. It left her exhausted.

Had it been two weeks? A week of this? No, only two days. Jon’s suggestion the other night that she would have work to do that morning had not come to pass. In fact, nothing had changed from then except that their household was now minus one member. Willa and Tormund had taken Rose in for the time being to give her parents time to rest. Rose still came with Willa every day, but for the most part the days were now devoid of distraction, and Dany missed it no matter how tired she was. 

Aching particularly strongly, since Willa had only just left with Rose and Enda in tow and a promise that she would come tomorrow afternoon, Dany was sitting up on the bed with her back against the wall at its head, staring at a mark on the window while she listened for Jon to come inside from tending to Embar. Willa had come late, and the light was barely still alive outside.

On cue, the front door opened and he stumped inside. She heard him removing his boots and shedding his outer layers before shaking himself off like a wet dog, as he always did to rid himself of the last of the cold. Not that it was particularly cold out today. Opening the front door had barely let in a chill, which Dany was thankful for given that she did not need any more of it. She curled herself closer together, stubbornly not wanting to get under the furs. 

“It’s a beauty out today,” said Jon as he walked over to their bedside. Dany felt his rough, familiar hand on her head, where he smoothed back her loose hair before kissing her forehead. The bed sagged when he sat next to her on the wrong side, as she had taken up his side for the time being. He was still stroking her hair. “Saw them meet up with Tormund,” he assured her. “And Willa said everything just needed to move along a little more. That you should just rest.”

“Mm,” she groaned in reply. Willa had said the same to her. More time, more waiting. 

She turned her head toward him to give him access to the rest of her hair. Instead, he traced over her face. “You  _ do _ look exhausted, Dany,” he murmured, a streak of concern in his voice. No doubt, she thought, that her face was pallid and smudged with darkness under her eyes. She didn’t answer, stubbornness still flickering inside her. Instead she just melted closer to him and, in a flash of motion and a squawk of feeble protest, she was laying on his chest between his legs, the furs covering both of them. 

“Maybe just rest for a while?” Jon suggested softly, ignoring her squirm, “Please? I’ll be right here.”

~

Her hair was braided. She felt it, thick and well-woven, against her neck when she woke. The house was dark. A pale dark, however. The light outside was helped by the low fire and the glowing egg on the mantle. Suddenly quite awake and confused, Dany raised her head to discover that she was no longer in Jon’s arms. Instead, she had made her way back to his side of the bed while Jon was propped against the wall, fast asleep with his head to one side and his mouth slack. Little snores emitted with the rise of his chest, which, Dany noted through the dim light, was now bare. She smiled privately.

_ I rested for much more than a while _ . Still, she did feel fractionally less fatigued now and a bit foolish for having not wanted to listen to him. 

There was something else too: something had shifted in the air. It was barely perceptible, so small that Dany thought she may be willfully imagining it, but it was there. A thin feeling, almost a gentle tingling in the still air around her. It made her think of Soraya, way back at Crackclaw Point. And of Saphira’s den at the Mammoth’s Head, of her first flight on Drogon, and even of the gaze of Willa’s keen golden eyes. As if drawn by a more tangible, but similar force, Dany’s gaze shifted to the egg on the mantle, glowing strangely. Was it possibly brighter? Stronger?

She squinted, but before she could do more she was abruptly shunted away from the mystic feelings, acutely becoming aware of another, more palpable one taking grip as she gained more wakefulness. “Oh,” she gasped quietly, sitting up and laying her hands across her stomach, “you’re here.” Her stomach had tightened, and she felt a radiating ache that was different than before, yet suddenly familiar, coming with memories of howling winds and softly-spoken stories to while away the hours.

Caution (and a little bit of Willa’s voice nagging in her head) told her to wait. “Wait and see if they’re regular,” is what Willa would be saying. But Dany couldn’t help but feel every emotion bubble up at once: hope, apprehension, relief, anxiety, and a chill that had suddenly taken root, sapping the warmth of sleep. Obediently, however, she waited quietly and listened to Jon’s snores to pass the time. Many snores later, it happened again. 

More aware this time, Dany winced when her contraction began. Breathing deeply, waiting it out, she weighed whether or not she should let Jon sleep, and whether or not she wanted to go back to sleep.  _ I couldn’t _ , she thought as the last vestiges of pressure subsided for a time.  _ I should though. But I can’t. _

A brief war of choices went on until she finally made a decision. to wait it out a little longer before waking her husband ( _ It’s not that bad yet _ , she reasoned.). Dany was just finished settling into a more comfortable position under the furs when Jon snorted and startled himself. She muffled a giggle as he jumped awake, watching as his eyes opened and he looked around warily. Clearly, he had not meant to fall asleep either. 

“Nice of you to join me,” said Dany once Jon was mid-yawn and stretch. 

“Hu--oh, you’re awake too?” Jon put his arms down. “Sorry. I  _ did _ mean to wake you last night, but then--”

“You fell asleep as well?” she finished for him.

Jon shrugged. “Guess we both needed it, eh?”

“Doubtful we’ll be getting much more,” Dany said blandly, watching as her husband’s face pondered the statement before his eyes widened. She felt the familiar pain begin in her back again, this time fully awake to experience it and knowing what to expect. 

“You mean you’re--?”

“Right now. In fact,” Dany gritted, keeping her breathing organized. Jon reacted quickly, almost instinctively, drawing her closer to soothe her back and match his breathing to hers for aid. He relaxed when she did and pushed the few stray hairs away from her face. 

Tracing back through her hair, down her braid, he wound the little loose end around his finger. “Willa’s due this afternoon,” he said to her, leaving the question out. It was fairly early. Dany could tell that morning only recently broken over the treetops.

“They’re still a fair bit apart,” she told him, taking his free hand and grasping it.

He stroked his thumb over their joined hands and smiled. “Okay,” he agreed to her silent request. She shivered. “You cold?”

“A little,” Dany said, nodding. 

“Come here, then.” Jon tugged at her hand, pulling her delicately into his lap and letting his hands settle over her belly under the furs while he rested his chin on her shoulder. 

“I can’t wait to meet her,” he murmured, rubbing over the swell of her and kissing her neck lightly. 

“Or him,” she replied. 

Jon just chuckled. “This is one bet I’m not losing, my love.” Settling back into him, Dany grimaced, not from more pain, but from the thought of being one child closer to admitting to Tormund and Willa that she had once fallen headfirst into a tree well. She could already see Tormund’s laugh shaking the snow from the trees.  _ Or perhaps it will stay spring _ , she thought peacefully.

~

The lines of Jon’s face seemed to have become more noticeable as the day wore on. They were taut and creased, not in the normal soft lines of the smile he wore so often with his family, but in concern. He was trying to hide it, Dany could tell. She was on the bed in just his shirt, on all fours, trying to shudder breaths while he rubbed her back in rhythmic circles. His emotions were audible. 

“It’s passing,” she panted as the contraction subsided once more.  _ Not long until the next _ . She remembered this. She remembered being able to handle it, and yet it felt increasingly more difficult. Her heart felt heavy and worried, but she did not dare say more and burden her husband any further.  _ I’ve done this, I can do it again _ .

The circles had stopped. Dany looked around her shoulder and saw his worried eyes staring back at her. “What do you need?” he asked helplessly.

“Help me lie down?”

He perched next to her once they had re-situated. Delicately, as if she was ice that would break with any more pressure, he brushed the slick hair from her face. A layer of sweat beaded over her body, making the thin shirt cling uncomfortably to her. It made her think of the humid heat in some of the Free Cities, though Jon had told her the day here was shaping up to be another nice one. Earlier he had run out to feed Embar as she rested. Now the sun was high, light streaming into their home. It would not be long before Willa arrived.  _ Thank the gods _ , Dany thought. 

Dany could not suppress her whimper as another contraction began. She looked to Jon as the intensity of her pain grew, gripping his hand. “It’ll pass soon,” he said, “just keep breathing, love.” 

His words did not quite reach his eyes and he was frowning, but before she could say anything, both of them snapped their heads towards the front of the house as Willa’s voice sounded, evidently telling Ghost not to jump on her. With another look at Dany and a squeeze of his hand, Jon disappeared from her side to open the door. 

Left with the empty bed, Dany closed her eyes and fisted one of the furs, trying to bite back another whimper as she knew that Rose would be with Willa. Water ran down her thigh. Jon was hissing at Willa, leaving Dany to try and make out what they were saying as the pain began to ebb.

“Take Embar,” Jon suddenly said loudly, “Rose sits fine on him if you keep one arm on her. She shouldn’t...”

Whether he trailed off or just lowered his voice, Dany did not know. She did not hear anymore until the door banged closed and Jon was back at her side, pressing a kiss to her hair and holding her hand again. Willa swam into view. “I seem to time these arrivals well,” she said, patting Dany’s knee in greeting. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Wil,” she all but whined, “it hurts.”

“Okay,” Willa replied gently, her face darkening for the barest moment, “let me take a look, eh?” 

Then, Dany felt Willa’s ear against her stomach and her cool hands brushing over her. She kept listening and feeling as it tightened and hardened while Dany clutched Jon’s hand in her own slender one that he had once been shocked to learn was capable of such force. As she was able to rest again, she felt confusing pressure from Willa’s hands. She could see her husband's face, a range of emotion writing and rewriting across it and Willa kept working. Dany winced. She was about to speak when Jon, in a voice that gave her a sudden chill, said, “What are you doing? Why are you making that face?” 

Willa didn’t answer. Her hands backed away.

“What is it?” Dany asked, surprised that her voice was unwavering.

She saw Jon turn back to her, looking worried as Willa came back into view, looking from Dany to Jon and chewing the inside of her lip as she tried to pick her words. “Dany,” she finally said, “the baby, it hasn’t turned. I thought...well, I’ve never yet had a baby not turn. I haven’t had many, but I thought you would need another day or so. I remember my mother saying once. It’s why I was coming later today. It’s not… if it doesn’t turn I...”

The healer suddenly looked far away, not finishing her sentence. 

“Well?” Jon said harshly, “So you can fix it right? You stopped trying.”

“I’m not a god, Jon!” Willa burst out, voice high, “I can’t stop nature! I tried, but she’s...I don’t--”

“But you’re a healer!”

“I--”

Dany reached to grab Willa’s hand. “Willa,” she said in as strong a voice she could manage as she felt the beginnings of another contraction, “Just. I trust you. We  _ both _ do.” She snapped her eyes to Jon, who, after a moment of looking abashed by his wife’s words, nodded as well.

“Sorry,” he muttered. His face had pinked.

Willa regarded him for a moment before nodding. She pulled in a breath, closing her eyes before breathing out again. “Talk to her,” she told Jon, “I need you to keep her focused.” Dany could see her golden eyes were dark and set, as the healer pushed up the sleeves of her shirt. 

Jon had knelt by her side, close enough to stir her hair with his breath as he obeyed Willa’s words. “You are so loved, my Dany,” he whispered, “so loved. I’m right here, okay? We’ll get through this.” 

“I love you,” she breathed.

She felt him brush his hand over her hair again, the feel of his touch softening her pain just a little. Vaguely, she could hear Willa further down the bed, muttering to herself. It was not Common Tongue that the healer spoke, nor any language Dany understood. But she knew the hard sounds in each word, so familiar from the sounds of trading in Shadowedge. They were rhythmic words, almost poetic, and Dany realized that she was not muttering to herself; she was praying.

Her next contraction was beginning. She gripped Jon’s hand tightly, enough to hear him hiss, though he did not recoil, as the full intensity washed over her. “Breathe, Dany,” Jon instructed through her cry of pain, “keeping breathing, love. You’re doing so well.”

“Dany?” She heard Willa as the pain began to leave her for a moment. Her friend’s voice shook slightly. “Dany, next time you’ll push. I really need you to listen to me. Just like last time, yeah?”

Somewhere deep in her mind, she heard what Willa had said during Rose’s birth:  _ “When I tell you to push, you’ll do it through your contraction. Then you can rest. Then it will start up again, okay? _ ”

“I trust you,” Dany repeated.

She felt Jon squeeze her hand, his lips pressing a kiss to her temple as another contraction began and she heard Willa’s instruction: “Push, Dany.” 

The pain grew worse as she listened to Willa. She felt the stinging prick in her eyes of tears as she squeezed them shut, crying out, her hand shaking in Jon’s. “You can do this, love,” Jon murmured through the pain as she heard Willa tell her to relax, “you’re doing so well.”

Dany nodded at Jon’s words, looking to him in reprieve and seeing his eyes shining like hers must have been as well. “Again, Dany,” Willa instructed. 

Time crawled, yet it hurtled as well. Before she could truly rest between pushing, she was pushing again. Her head was buzzing, her body exhausted. Jon’s encouragement starkly contrasted to how tired she felt, her strength wavering while nature continued to thrust her forward, each contraction demanding she give more of herself to it despite there not possibly being anything left of her. 

“Push,” she heard Willa say, “Jon!” Her cries edged on desperate screams as she did as told, a burning feeling accompanying her this time. Somewhere, somewhere so far away it could have been in a dream, she remembered Jon seeing Rose’s head for the first time. He had held her hand, but disappeared from her side before coming back to proudly proclaiming what he had seen. Now, when she was told to relax and was able to look for him, he was gone, as was his hand. 

Instead, someone else was now touching her. She felt rough hands add new pressure close between her legs. “I’m right here, Dany,” Jon told her, thumb brushing her where she felt him pressing, “I’m still here and you’re doing so well.”

“Okay, push again,” Willa said. Softer, as Dany began to push again, feeling the burning once more, she heard her friend murmur more in Old Tongue. There seemed to be more than one voice, but Dany could hear no more as her cries drowned it out.

It was as if someone had stoked the burning she felt to set it ablaze. Willa told her to relax, then told her to push again. Unable to keep it in any longer, she screamed. She heard someone make a strangled, pained sound as Willa distantly encouraged her again. “Nearly there, Dany,” she strained, as if she, too, were working this hard, “nearly there push again!”

_ Please _ , she prayed, unable to think of more,  _ please _ .

Tears were freely streaming down her cheeks, her hands violently trembling as they fisted the bed. “It’s happening, Dany, love,” she heard Jon say thickly from somewhere, “you’re so close.”

Then, she felt it again. The tingle in the air from before. 

Time slowed, space melted, and sound stalled, all replaced with the rushing and thumping of what could have been a heartbeat, or waves, or both. She felt taut, coiled, and yet weightless. She could see, but was blinded. There was light and true heat. It compelled her, weighed her down and pressed on her until she knew only one release that Willa did not need to encourage her to do. Suddenly, as she pushed again, the world erupted in a snap that blazed around her and left her disoriented, only feeling the pressure change and, in the most primal part of her, knew it was her baby sliding free. 

Blindly, she heard gasping and calling. There was a sound of flurried, heavy movement and detached voices she didn’t understand. Without thinking, Dany reached, searching for the small, warm, crying weight that was supposed to be in her arms. That she knew had come into the world. The wrong warmth closed around her hands shakily as harsh, desperate Old Tongue flooded her ears. Blinking, she saw Jon kneeling in front of her, blurred like someone had smeared paint before it had a chance to dry. He was crying. But she couldn’t hear anyone else doing the same..

Her soul plummeted. “Where…?” 

Jon’s slumped down to her and he shook his head. “Dany, she’s…”

“Breathing!” Willa suddenly shouted from beyond, “She’s breathing!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter required approximately 87 facelifts (what else would I be doing while social distancing anyway?). I've always known where this story was going with this specific plot line, but getting there has been a heck of a long haul.
> 
> So, Dany's baby was a breech baby, which could be quite dangerous (although, full disclosure: I know nothing about breech births and did a lot of research to even attempt to write this at least mildly factually) and was a huge test on Willa, who has, as we've seen, a complicated past with controlling loss. And then the chapter's title, we can see, refers to what Dany felt twice during the birth of her and Jon's daughter (Jon's 2 for 2 with his predictions). The next chapter is going to immediately follow up to this one. Hopefully, given all the time I now seem to have on my hands, it won't be too long a wait.
> 
> Enjoy and stay healthy!


	60. Blood of My Blood

“You need to rest.”

“I’m fine.” Her voice shook with the lie, but Dany dug her nails harder into the soft wood of the cradle set near the blazing hearth and tried to force her feet to root to the floor.

“Dany,  _ please _ . You’re as white as your--”

“I  _ said _ I’m  _ fine _ , Jon!” Dany snapped in a voice that thinned over the lump in her throat she had been forcing down for as long as she solemnly kept her vigil. 

“But you’ve been--”

“Dany,” another voice, smooth like poured honey, cut across Jon’s, “listen to Jon. We’ll be here, you need to rest.” Dany felt a slender hand on her back. It pressed her shirt to her, dried and hardened with old sweat. Her hair had dried as well, fallen out of her braid in messy tangles that clumped around her face. Her body felt like a tree limb that had been ripped from its world and battered through a storm: brittle, weak, stripped bare. Jon rested his hand on her shoulder, placing the lightest pressure to pull her away. So caring, so loving. It broke her, rendering her unable to keep a ragged sob from being ripped out of her lung. 

“No!” she cried helplessly, “No, I can’t leave, Jon! I need to be with her, I need to see her! I need--”

She buckled forward and was held up by his strong arms, pulled against his warmth and pried away as he soothed her feeble fighting, the weak pounding of her fists on his arms, with a scratchy voice. “Shh, my love, shh,” he breathed, kissing her hair tenderly as she wept.

“Don’t make me leave her, Jon,” Dany finally managed to shudder through the wracking sobs that tortured her already beaten body, “not yet.”

Their baby, their sweet, tiny daughter had neither moved nor made a sound. She was born sleeping, Willa said, when the baby had not stirred after birth. But Willa had left the house, trading places with Kolla, blood still on her hands, and had not said when their little girl would wake up. Dany had not looked up when she left, had barely taken her eyes from her daughter since the moment she saw her. If her mother looked away for too long, she could be lost forever. Never looked upon with the love she deserved.  _ Like Rhaego.  _

She wanted to memorize her. The ten toes and ten fingers. The little nose that already reminded her of Rose. Her skin in the moonlight that had shown through their window until a second yellow morning broke over the trees. The silver hair already crowned her head; it looked like spun starlight. And the peaceful face of sleep. She was so peaceful, and yet all Dany wanted was to hear her cry, to hear her daughter’s lungs fill and greet the world with a vibrant scream of life. To nurse her at her breast and know that she would grow like her sister, forever free in the world she could make her own. To promise her fiercely and know she heard, as she soothed her in the dark of night, that she was so loved, that she would never be alone.

Dany’s sobs had subsided, replaced by stuttering breaths. She had wrapped her arms around Jon in turn, holding him close, wanting to feel that there was still life in the world, that her world had not fallen away to nothing. Whispers still fell from his lips, so inaudible that she could not tell if he was speaking to her, to himself, or to the gods. A tear dripped from her hair onto her cheek and she pulled him tighter to her. 

Months could have passed with time remaining unchanged as they held each other, and Dany would not have minded. She feared change, feared what would happen when she closed her eyes and let time pass, and yet she knew that no power in the world she ever had sought could stop it.

“Dany?”

A voice that was not Kolla’s moved time again and Dany, with the most enormous effort she had put forth yet, wrenched her eyes away from her daughter’s cradle to see Willa. The healer’s eyes were rimmed red, her brown face blotched. Her hair was pulled back, silver and gold adornments dotting it, save for the eagle feather whose tip rested on her shoulder. It hadn’t been there before.

“Where’s Kolla?” Jon rasped. Dany felt him shift in her arms, no doubt having a look around the small house. She had not heard the spearwife leave either. 

“Out with the others,” Willa answered. 

In the lean-to. Enda had ridden Embar with Rose to fetch Tormund and her parents. While Ulf had gone back to Shadowedge for the night, not wanting to leave Nerell alone, the others had set up to stay in the lean-to for as long as needed. They had taken turns of vigil next to Dany and time outside with Enda, who Willa barred from coming inside, and Rose, for whom Jon had done the same. He said she shouldn’t meet her sister this way, but Dany knew she shouldn’t see her mother either. The only time he left Dany was to see Rose. He came back in to tell Dany that Enda had been painstakingly braiding Embar’s thick mane and tail for Rose’s entertainment and distraction to great success. The poor horse now looked much more like Willa. He smiled when he said it. It looked foreign on his face.

Dany watched as Willa looked into the cradle again. “She hasn’t moved,” Dany told her quietly, stomach twisting with the words of truth, “not at all.”

“Mm,” Willa acknowledged, furrowing her brow. 

The three stood in silence again, Jon making no motion to have Dany rest any more than she was doing in his arms. Around them, the air felt thick and heavy. A leaden question had pushed itself on top of the lump in Dany’s throat. She did not want to speak it, to acknowledge it, but it was there. It had been there since yesterday, steadily growing in weight. But though she could not stop time, she could stop herself. And yet she seemed to be failing at that as well.

“Willa,” she said softly, breaking the silence along with the lead. Willa and Jon both looked to her. Dany took a breath, trying to keep her voice from quaking as she felt fresh tears begin to pool. “Should...should we name her?”

Jon’s hand started around one of hers, then grasped it. She watched Willa close her eyes, shaking her head very slowly. “Dany…” she cautioned. 

“I’m not doubting you as a healer,” Dany said in a stronger voice, “I’m asking you as our friend.”

Willa looked from Dany to Jon and then back again, and Dany watched as her expression hardened. “It would be deserving,” Willa said, her own voice stronger as well, fixing Dany with a fierce look, “for her to greet the gods as one of us.  _ But _ I swear to you both, as your friend and as a woods witch, I will not let them take her easily.  _ They _ do not deserve her.”

Reaching out, Dany took her hand in a strong grip, managing a small smile. A moment later, Jon’s hand covered both of theirs as well. “We know you won’t,” he told her.

All three of them moved closer to the cradle, looking down at the still baby inside. Her breathing was quiet and slow, her little chest barely showing evidence of life. Dany reached out a finger and pressed it into one of her tiny, uncurled hands, which stayed relaxed. 

“What will her name be?” Jon asked quietly, pulling Dany close to his side. On her other side, Willa had wrapped her arm around her as well. The feather from her hair brushed over Dany’s shoulder. 

She barely had to think. “Hazel,” she told them in a loud, clear voice for  _ anyone _ who was listening, stroking over her daughter’s hand with the lightest touch. Looking to Willa, whose eyes were glistening, she added more quietly, “Because she deserves another chance.”

~

Together, Jon and Willa managed to convince Dany to allow them to help her clean up and rest with the provision that she could stay with Hazel. 

She was washed with rag and water, the remnants of Hazel’s birth finally cleaned away. They helped to comb her hair, leaving it loose and wavy down to the small of her back. Jon drew two of their chairs up to the cradle, sitting and pulling Dany into his lap while Willa took the other, occasionally trading places with Kolla or Tormund throughout the day and silently squeezing Dany’s hand whenever she did. Kolla was gentle and Tormund demure; when he spoke, his voice barely reached over a whisper. Dany continued her vigil in silence, occasionally hearing others’ voices around her before sinking back into her buzzing stupor as she watched her daughter’s sleeping form. 

“I really thought we’d seen the last of our children leaving us,” she heard Tormund say to Jon the last time she was aware of others.

It was dark when Dany was pulled into consciousness again, thinking someone had spoken softly to her. Jon’s hand had gone slack around her waist, and she turned to see his head cocked to the side, brooding etched on his face as if he felt guilty for sleeping. 

Someone had lit a candle. On her other side, Dany saw Willa bent over in her seat. One of her arms was wrapped around her stomach, while her other hand was fisted in her lap. At first, she thought Willa had finally succumbed to sleep as well, her stalwart friend having exhausted more options to help Hazel than Dany thought even possible, but then she heard the soft words again. Just barely, Dany saw Willa’s lips moving as her fur-covered shoulders shook slightly. Reacting instinctively, maternally, Dany reached out to soothe her.

Willa jumped, snapping her head up with a tinkle and showing Dany her shiny face. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“Don’t be,” Dany said, referring to much more than breaking her trance. “Were you praying again?”

“I haven’t stopped,” Willa told her quietly.

Dany nodded, looking back to Hazel, her silver hair glinting in the moonlight that streamed through the closest window.  _ As Valyrian-blooded as they come _ , Dany thought, pride and sorrow mixing in her heart. It was already thick hair, thicker than Rose’s had been. Hair like that was normal for free folk babies, and she knew which Northerner could be thanked for that trait. Her eyes drifted to the crackling fire next to the cradle, its many tails beckoning and snapping. Ominous, Dany thought, to some, but she thought it to be rejuvenating instead.  

“My son was born dead,” she said suddenly to Willa, who, to her credit, did not react. “I was told that only death could pay for life. So he died to pay for my husband’s life. Then my husband died, and he paid for my dragons’ lives. Some say I was reborn that night too -- fire was like...metamorphosis.

“So many more have died since that night.” She turned to stare at Willa, dropping her hand and fixing her eyes upon the strong gold gaze that held her own unflinchingly. In the dark, for just a moment, another friend was there in her place. “How many have to die?” she asked, “I keep asking myself if every death I have witnessed has been payment for my life, because the gods only know how many people died in service to me, ensuring I could live. And how cruel -- how cruelly  _ ironic _ \-- is it that to honor their sacrifice, I chose to turn away from everything they believed in and left it behind because I would have died otherwise? How do I pray for forgiveness for that? And why is my  _ daughter _ even a part of it?”

“Dany,” said Willa seriously, grabbing her friend’s hand back, “ _ this _ isn’t punishment for living, or even a payment for it.”

Dany shook with a mirthless laugh. “Isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not. So much death cannot be the price of one life, even one a fraught as yours. The gods don’t discriminate, valuing one life over several others, or even trading one for another. Whoever told you that does not know them. This world was made for all of us to share, to strive to live our lives in as equals -- all of us: humans, wolves, dragons, even those stupid fish that swim right into Tormund’s hands when he puts them into the Antler. Death comes from a loss of balance in the world and in ourselves. Violence, sickness, hunger. And, sometimes,” she bit her lip and cocked her head to the side, “just...because. It’s inevitable, it...breaks us. But it also lets us continue on.”

“Then…what  _ do _ you pray for?” Dany asked. 

The healer gave her a small smile. “Strength,” she said simply, “sometimes I need to be reminded that I can still draw it.”

“Where do you draw it from?”

Willa pursed her lips. “It’s different for everyone. But I think,” she said slowly, “for me, it’s from the land itself. Watching it heal. Watching how it’s become our home again even after everything that’s happened to it.”

“I used to think strength came from power,” Dany told her, “how many people you had fighting for you.”

“And now?”

_ Now? _

Memories flashed in Dany’s mind. Of riding next to Jorah on horseback as he laughed and pulled her back up when she slipped to the side. Drogon perched on her shoulder, stretching his wings to greet the bright morning and of his huge, black form touching down in the fighting pits and giving her a taste of freedom for the first time. Looking out over Mereen on a humid night with Missandei, arms around each other’s waists, as thousands of cicadas serenaded them, and stuffing her huge mattress with Willa while they watched it snow outside. She saw Jon as they lay nose-to-nose in her bed on the ship to White Harbor. And flying next to her on Rhaegal, catching her when she slipped sobbing from her chair in her Dragonstone chamber, hoisting her up over fallen boulders in the Vale, working with her to roll enormous rocks from the place they would build their home. And holding her hand as he helped her bring their children into the world -- their growing family.  

“Now…” she said, “now, I think it comes from how many people you have fighting  _ with _ you.”  _ By your side, to rely on, because being alone in the world is a terrible thing.  _

Dany flicked her gaze to Hazel again, a silent vow that she would never be alone fluttering inside her. She was still looking at her hair, when the moonlight glinting off something else silver caught the corner of her eye.

“Willa,” she breathed, her eyes widening as the story Jon told her on the way back from the Mammoth’s Head suddenly flooded back to her. Queen Alysanne and King Jahaerys placing dragon eggs in their babies’ cradles, making it a tradition: a good omen if they hatched, bad if they didn’t. Her hot-blooded sons had been a thrice good omen if she were to give into the belief that Drogo’s pyre had been her cradle. The air tingled again.

Almost dreamlike, Dany stood up. Her legs wobbled as she did, feeling liquid and frozen at the same time. “What are you doing?” Willa asked, moving as if to stop Dany, thinking she would hurt herself. Dany ignored her, taking the few steps to the mantle and reaching up for Drogon and Saphira’s third egg, whispering to it as she pulled it down.

“ _ Ao sagon daor mērī dombo _ ,” she told it, bringing it over to Hazel’s cradle and looking down at her daughter. There was another addition in there, an eagle feather on the baby’s right side. Dany smiled, feeling a tear roll down her cheek. 

She placed the egg into the cradle, next to Hazel on her left. Neither gave any sign that something had changed, but it had. She knew it. Beneath the anguish, like Hazel’s tiny foot kicking inside her, she felt hopeful.

“ _ Kostagon ao tepagon each tolie kustikāne _ .”

~

Dany knew she was asleep. She remembered fighting it, forcing herself to keep watching Hazel and the egg, until sleep finally held down her broken, spent body and mind and overpowered it. Darkness had washed over her, melding her into the inviting warmth of Jon’s body and relinquish her grasp on herself. 

When she opened her eyes she was no longer home. The place she was in looked formless, fogged and obscured. Nothing had taken shape, nor did it seem to want to, but brilliant color and sound swirled around her in hypnotic dance. Dany wondered briefly how she could be standing if there was no ground.  _ I have to go back _ , she thought firmly. She began to turn, somehow, forcing one foot to pivot her towards where she believed she had come from. 

“Your Grace!” a voice shouted suddenly, the most solid thing in this world, stopping Dany in her tracks, making her head snap back to look behind her.

Missandei smiled at her, reaching as if to touch her arm. “Daenerys,” she said more quietly, though she could have been whispering into Dany’s ear, “live well, my friend.”

Before Dany could speak, could decide what to do, the world closed in around her. She lost sight of all direction, all senses overwhelmed by the whirring color and a sudden, sharp howling that made her ears ring. Dany screwed her eyes shut from the color as the howling filled her, rattling her soul within her body like it had reached out to specifically grab her alone. Then the world gave way underneath her and she fell.

Her eyes snapped open as she hit the ground, much lighter than expected, Jon erupting from the chair. “Whuzzat?” he said groggily, “Dany?” On her other side, she heard Willa thunk to the floor in surprise as well.

Dany shook her head, still disoriented, her ears still ringing with the sound of her dream. But it was still happening, the sound was still there as loud as before. And then, Dany realized it wasn’t just a sound. It was crying.

Scrambling to her feet, legs still unsteady from exhaustion or anticipation or everything together, she looked, scarcely daring to breathe, into the cradle. Red-faced and reaching up at her, swaddling somehow undone, Hazel was bawling. Her blue eyes were full of tears, her little mouth stretched wide as she cried with vigor. “It’s all right,” Dany crooned through her own tears, reaching in to gather Hazel in her trembling arms, “it’s all right, my sweet girl. You’re not alone. We’re all right here. Oh, it’s all right, little one.  _ You’re _ all right.” 

Dany grinned at Jon, whose expression was bewildered, incredulous, and completely overjoyed all at once. He brushed over Hazel’s hair, her head barely the size of his hand, a laugh catching in his throat. As Dany moved to fix Hazel’s swaddling, Jon reached and pulled a silver shard from the midst of it, looking at it thoughtfully and showing it to Dany before both peered to see where it came from. 

There, nestled in the corner, tail curled around an eagle feather almost as large as it and wings folded over its nose, was the only creature to sleep through Hazel’s cries. Dany looked at Jon and found him doing the same to her. Eyes wide, Jon cleared his throat and amended, “They’re  _ both _ all right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon! It's a dragon! So Hazel's definitively alive after a harrowing experience, and Dany's got a lot to process. I'd like to believe that her dream was Missandei, who has left signs of herself throughout Dany's new life (most notably in Willa), forcing herself to reach out to Dany one last time to give her that closure that she approved of Dany's choices. This story is slowly beginning to wrap up...
> 
> Valyrian used:  
> “Ao sagon daor mērī dombo." - “You are not alone anymore.”  
> “Kostagon ao tepagon each tolie kustikāne.” - “May you give each other strength.”


End file.
